Tapestry
by Eribeth Whitlock
Summary: The "Dream Team" is in its Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Breakthroughs in Legilimency offer new hope in the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Can the students and faculty of Hogwarts set aside their differences work together? Hr/SS, RW/LL, HP/GW


**Chapter One: Arrival **

Hermione Granger, chin cradled in the palm of her hand, watched as the chimneys and peaked roofs of suburban London rushed past her window.

"_This is my last train ride to Hogwarts,"_ Hermione thought. _"I expect I'll be saying that sort of thing pretty often this year. The last sorting I'll ever see, the last Transfiguration lesson I'll ever take…"_ She mentally shook herself. _"Oh well! No use getting sentimental, I suppose."_

In the seat next to her, Neville Longbottom cooed to his potted honking daffodil. With Neville's steady encouragement, the plant gave its first tentative "HONK?" and quivered with delight as the young man patted one of its dark green leaves. Luna Lovegood sat across from Hermione, engrossed in the most recent issue of _The Quibbler_. The headline ("Half-Breed Triumphant: Veela/Gytrash Soprano Receives Standing Ovation at the Albert Hall") seemed fairly innocuous, especially compared to some of the more fanciful "stories" covered in previous issues.

Next to Luna, Ginny Weasley was engaged in a spirited debate over seeker tactics with her brother Ron. It was clear that brother and sister were trying to catch the attention of the compartment's remaining occupant. Harry Potter, however, seemed strangely preoccupied, flipping randomly through his copy of _Flying with the Cannons_ without so much as a glance at his longtime friends.

As the old-fashioned steam engine chugged past the market town of Darlington, a disturbance just outside the compartment door put an end to Hermione's musings.

"Well, if it isn't Potty, the Weasel and company," came Draco Malfoy's lazy drawl. The hulking figures of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle could be seen framing Malfoy's smaller form. "Funny, isn't it? You'd think FAMOUS Harry Potter could find more…_impressive_ playmates. Tell me, Potty, does it make you feel like a big man, hanging around with this rabble-misfits, Muggle lovers and a mudblood?"

"Bugger off, ferret boy!" Ron spat, grinding the knuckles of his right hand against the palm of his left.

Far from provoking Harry, however, Malfoy's gibe seemed to go unnoticed by the Boy Who Lived. Harry continued to leaf through _Flying with the Cannons_ as if he hadn't heard a thing. Malfoy decided to up the ante.

"Fudge may be a laughably incompetent Minister for Magic, but at least he knows the value of a galleon." Crabbe and Goyle chuckled sycophantically. "Did I mention Father's secured an early release from Azkaban? Breeding, wealth and connections still count for something, after all. I imagine he'll want payback for all the trouble you put him through, Scarface."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at this, and she glanced quickly at Harry. She was all too familiar with Lucius Malfoy's malevolent power, having fought against him and eleven other Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries fifteen months earlier. Harry, however, remained expressionless. A slight hesitation as he turned one page was the only hint that he was even aware of the conversation going on around him.

"How'd you like a permanent case of bat bogeys, Malfoy?" said Ron. "Ginny's made the hex so strong that only the original caster can undo it. Too bad Ginny's hex recall is so iffy these days. Isn't it, Gin?"

Ginny shrugged, raised her hands, and flashed an insincere smile at their unwelcome visitors. "We wouldn't want to spoil those magazine cover looks now, would we, Malfoy?"

The witch pushing the food trolley chose that moment to arrive. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle retreated, unwilling to continue the hostilities in front of an adult witness.

"Oh, heavens! I've been neglecting my Head Girl duties!" Hermione jumped up and made for the door. "I'll meet up with you again at dinner!"

The remnants of an unseasonably hot and sunny day lingered in the air as the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station. The petunias and marigolds in nearby flowerbeds had an exhausted, withered look. Dust rose from under the hundreds of feet emerging onto the platform, and the stationmaster looked as if he desperately craved a pint of good ale.

Looking down as she disembarked, Hermione recognised the massive shadow of Rubeus Hagrid approaching in the twilight.

"Hello, Hagrid!" Hermione said, beaming. "It's lovely to see you! Did you have a nice summer?"

"H'uh?" Hagrid jumped slightly at the sound of Hermione's voice. "Awright there, 'Ermione? Sorry, I jus' didn' see yeh there."

"Oh! Sorry to startle you, Hagrid. I asked if you'd had a good summer."

"Summer?" Hagrid looked over his shoulder, then back at Hermione. "Eh, wha's that yeh said, 'Ermione?"

"I…erm…that is to say…it's nice to see you, Hagrid. You're looking well."

"Wha's that?" Again, Hagrid glanced sharply around. "Err…I'm fine, jus' fine. I'll see you up at the castle then, eh, 'Ermione?"

In a booming voice, Hagrid called out, "Firs' years, over 'ere! Firs' years, line up fer th' boats 'ere! C'mon now, look sharp, you lot!"

The odd behaviour of both Harry and Hagrid, news of Lucius Malfoy's early release, and a strange sense of watchfulness in the warm, still air combined to increase Hermione's anxiety.

"_The calm before the storm. What an apt phrase THAT is_," Hermione mused as she boarded a carriage for the journey to the school grounds.

In the Entrance Hall, Hermione joined a group of prefects and chatted briefly with Hufflepuff Head Boy Ernie Macmillan. As soon as it was polite to do so, she excused herself and entered the Great Hall to find her friends. With a vague smile, Luna drifted away to join her Ravenclaw classmates, and Hermione took a seat between Ron and Ginny at the Gryffindor table. Harry sat across from them, flanked by Neville and Dean Thomas.

"Oh, look!" Ginny breathed with a nod toward the Head Table. "Next to Snape! That must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

Hermione sought out the familiar, brooding form of Potions Master Severus Snape. Immediately to his left, a young man with disheveled brown hair and thick eyeglasses slouched in his seat, beating a rapid tattoo on the table with his butter knife.

"Not much to look at, is he?" Lavender Brown muttered.

"Well, let's just hope he's a good _teacher_, so it's not a _total_ loss, hmmm?" Hermione retorted. Fond as she was of her fellow seventh-year Gryffindor, Hermione couldn't hide her exasperation when faced with Lavender's fixation on boys.

"_Honestly!"_ Hermione thought, _"She feels the day's a total waste if she hasn't made at least three new romantic conquests before dinner. How _does_ she find time to study?"_

Professor McGonagall, bearing a three-legged stool and the decrepit Sorting Hat, led dozens of alarmed-looking first-year students down the central aisle of the Hall.

As McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on the stool, a hush fell over the crowd. A seam near the Hat's brim opened wide, and it began to sing in a robust voice:

Another year, and it is time

To meet and greet you all in rhyme.

A thousand years I've had to sing,

And to young ears a message bring.

This year is different. Sad, but true.

I have few words to comfort you.

Alas, our time is running short,

And full of woe is my report.

For war and strife upon us lay.

Through naught but song, there is no way

To cure the ills that now befall

This scholar's haven, hallowed hall.

How now? To evil must we cede?

Is hopeless every noble deed?

Or can we jointly stay and stand

Against the force of harsh command?

Relinquish grief! Forget despair,

For you will find no answers there.

Instead, to one another cling.

Oh, listen now to what I sing!

Pure faith, sweet hope, and boundless joy

Can follow if we but employ

Our strengths together, brothers all.

If we unite, ill will must fall.

Bold Gryffindor, if but restrained

With Slytherin cunning and Ravenclaw brain,

Then justly shared, as is Hufflepuff's gift,

Can heal our hearts; can seal this rift.

And though inclined as I might be

To forego sorting, now I see

Acknowledged skills, to each unique,

May yet provide the strength we seek.

Your aptitudes you'll know tonight,

Just weave them all to find the light.

Step forward now, so we can see

The richness of diversity.

The end of the song was met with a varied response. The Slytherin table, with few exceptions, was utterly silent. By contrast, the entire Hufflepuff student body clapped enthusiastically, and continued at least ten seconds longer than the rest of the Hall.

"Doesn't miss a beat, does it?" Dean said as he applauded. "Though I expect that business about combining our strengths must be galling to the Slytherins. Look at them! They always act like they're a cut above the rest of us!"

"But we've got to get past all that, haven't we?" Ginny replied. "Generalising about any group, even the Slytherins, is where prejudice starts." A sly grin preceded her next remark. "Tell you what…I vow, on my honor as a Weasley, to befriend at least one person from each of the other Houses this year."

"Are you MAD, Ginny?" Ron exclaimed. "As if someone like Malfoy is going to give you the time of day. Or worse, he might _pretend_ to be on your side, then stab you in the back the first chance he gets."

"Well, I just won't pick Malfoy then, will I?" Ginny seemed determined to pursue her project. Hermione intended to support Ginny's efforts, and secretly hoped that students at the other House tables were making similar plans.

Soon all conversation died out as Professor McGonagall began calling the first-year students up to be sorted. A healthy crop of new Gryffindors (five boys, eight girls) joined the table, to the enthusiastic applause of the older students. After a brief welcome by Headmaster Dumbledore, the golden platters and flagons were instantly filled with the house elves' magnificent cooking.

"Harry, you've got to try some of this!" Neville said, poking a spoon enticingly into a bowl of creamy pasta. "I swear, the food here just gets better each year!"

Harry served himself with the pasta, and made a half-hearted effort to eat. Neville shot a worried look at Harry, then at Hermione, hoping to enlist her aid in raising Harry's spirits.

"Did you…" Hermione started haltingly, "Did you have a good summer, Harry? Dudley treating you more like a human being these days?"

"Yeah, I suppose," came Harry's unenthusiastic response. "Reality seems to be sinking in. Bullying me isn't so much fun anymore, now he knows I'm allowed to fight back." Harry had turned seventeen at the end of July, and was therefore no longer subject to the Ministry's Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.

Relieved that she'd finally elicited a response from him, Hermione continued to engage Harry in small talk as they helped themselves to dessert. Finally, when everyone had eaten their fill, the remains of the cakes, ice cream, tarts and chocolate gateau disappeared, leaving the tables clear once more.

"Ahem!" Rising to his feet, Headmaster Dumbledore silenced the Hall with a single sound. "Now that we've all eaten our fill of this most excellent feast, permit me to make the following start-of-term announcements."

"Our caretaker, Mister Filch, has asked me to remind all students that an updated list of prohibited articles can be found attached to the door of his office. This list has grown considerably as of late, thanks to the efforts of two former Hogwarts students, Mister George and Mister Fred Weasley." Dumbledore's startlingly blue eyes and serene smile rested briefly on Ron and Ginny.

"I have the great pleasure of introducing a new member of our staff. Please join me in welcoming Professor Bernard Benson, your new Potions teacher."

A smattering of applause followed this announcement; most students concentrated their efforts on looking between Professors Snape, Benson and Dumbledore in a bewildered fashion.

"And finally, to clear up any lingering confusion over my last announcement, please allow me to introduce your new teacher in the study of Defense Against the Dark Arts." Gesturing toward the black-clad figure two seats to his left, Dumbledore continued, "Stand up and take a bow, Severus. I have every confidence that you will continue your highly effective teaching methods in this new field."

Snape stood up briefly, to thunderous applause and boisterous cheers from the Slytherin table. Most of the other students clapped politely, but Ron and Harry exchanged horrified looks. Neville, looking paler than Hermione had ever seen him, stared fixedly at his clasped hands.

Soon thereafter, Dumbledore dismissed the students and a massive move toward the dormitories ensued. Hermione, as Head Girl, had been assigned a room to herself, just at the base of Gryffindor tower. The Hogwarts staff deemed it prudent for Head Boys and Girls to have private rooms, since they would often be sought out by others students for advice and counsel.

After bidding the others goodnight, Hermione uttered her room's password.

"Rubber baby buggy bumpers!" she said, vowing to change it to something a bit more dignified when she wasn't quite so tired. The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing the small room which was to be her home for the next ten months.

The first thing Hermione noticed was a fire blazing merrily in the compact hearth opposite the door. Two very worn plush chairs invited tête-à-tête directly in front of the fire. Her large orange cat, Crookshanks, had already settled into the chair closest to the flames. "Hello, handsome!" Hermione sighed as she walked into the room and pulled the door closed behind her.

The standard Hogwarts four-poster, draped in scarlet and gold brocade, occupied the entire right side of the room. Next to an armoire, two bookshelves strained under the weight of Hermione's extensive personal library. A door off to the left led into a tiny bath with shower, sink and toilet.

"_Not bad, really,"_ Hermione thought. _"Certainly not the Taj Mahal, but I think I'm going to appreciate having a sanctuary this year."_

Hermione proceeded to dampen her hair and run a comb through it before gathering it into a single thick plait for the night. "Much simpler, really, than messing about with Sleakeazy's Hair Potion," Hermione confided to Crookshanks. "Come here, you!" she said, patting the bed invitingly. The cat stretched lazily then took up his usual position next to his mistress' pillow. Snuggled deep into the warmth and softness of her bed, Hermione drifted off into a long, dreamless sleep.

**Chapter Two: First Week of Classes **

At breakfast the next morning, Neville, Ron, Harry and Hermione were deep in conversation about Snape's new teaching role.

"I just don't get it," Harry said. "Dumbledore didn't give Snape the Defense position all those years. Why the sudden change?"

Leaning in, Hermione whispered, "Professor Snape is a reformed Death Eater, Harry! I'm guessing Dumbledore thought that becoming immersed in the Dark Arts again might tempt him to backslide."

"I just wish he'd stuck with P-Potions, now that I'm out of it," Neville sighed. "Why'd he have to get a class that we're all required to take this year?"

"Speaking of classes, what's on for today?" Ron asked. "Let's see, Tuesday. Charms, Divination, and Care of Magical Creatures. Too bad you're not in Divination anymore, Hermione. Old Trelawney has turned over a new leaf since her run-in with Umbridge, and Firenze puts on quite a show."

"Well, my loss I suppose," Hermione replied. "Actually, oughtn't we be heading over to Charms? We can't keep Professor Flitwick waiting on our first day back!"

The four friends hoisted their bookbags, grabbed one last piece of toast, and headed to the Charms classroom.

"Welcome back, everyone!" squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick from atop his usual pile of books. "I trust you all spent your summers productively."

Hermione smiled, thinking back to her first year in Charms. Levitation seemed so basic now, yet she could remember a time when she was the only student in their year to successfully float so much as a feather.

"In these troubled times," Professor Flitwick continued, "your skills in every area of magical study will be crucial. Casting charms may seem like child's play, but let me emphasise that what you learn here may have much broader implications than a passing score on your NEWT examinations."

The Professor's usual cheery expression had vanished. He looked, Hermione thought, just as gloomy as Hagrid had been at Hogsmeade Station the previous night.

"Let us begin, then, with the Disillusionment Charm," Flitwick continued. "This charm causes the object on which it is cast to blend into the background. While Disillusioning something makes it visually undetectable, the object still retains mass and weight. Allow me to demonstrate."

He tapped his wand sharply on the stack of books beneath him, which appeared to melt into nothingness. Flitwick, however, remained at precisely the same height as before, and when he gave the unseen books another sharp tap of his wand, they shimmered back into plain sight.

"Please divide into pairs for practice. I've written the incantation on the board."

Hermione teamed up with Neville, and they spent the rest of the class period turning each other into human chameleons.

After lunch, Harry, Ron and Neville made for the Divination classroom while Hermione headed to Arithmancy. The class was much the same as always, but Hermione couldn't help thinking Professor Vector looked unusually careworn.

Their final class of the day, Care of Magical Creatures, was taught by Hagrid on the edge of the Dark Forest.

"Back 'ere, ev'rybody." Hagrid called from behind his cottage. "Got summat to show yeh, but she won' like comin' too far from th' trees."

In his massive hand, Hagrid held up a battered cage containing the saddest looking bird Hermione had ever seen.

"This 'ere's what they call an Augr'y," Hagrid continued. "Can anybody tell me what's special abou' it?"

Hermione quickly raised her hand.

"The Augurey, or Irish Phoenix, is native to the British Isles. They make their nests of thorns, and are rarely seen flying except in heavy rain. Legend had it that the call of the Augurey foretold death, but we now know that the Augurey's cry merely precedes a storm."

"Five points to Gryffindor, 'Ermione," Hagrid said. "Now, this 'ere bird is a bit shy, but she might take a few o' these black beetles, if anyone wants te try feedin' 'er. How 'bout you, Harry?"

Harry stepped forward, hand outstretched to take the beetles from Hagrid. Seen together, Hermione was once again struck with the sense of almost overwhelming despair that both Harry and Hagrid emanated.

"Maybe it's just that bird," Ron whispered, "but I'm starting to feeling downright depressed."

Hermione sighed. "I don't think it's the bird, Ron."

After dinner, the Head Boy and Girl were scheduled to conduct the first weekly prefects' meeting of the school year. Hermione met up with Ernie Macmillan in the Entrance Hall and they walked to the prefects' lounge together.

"Nervous, Hermione?" Ernie asked. "We've taken on quite a bit of responsibility here, you know." His proud posture made it quite clear that he, at least, felt up to the challenge.

"I think we can handle it, Ernie." Hermione replied with a grin. "After all, how much trouble can a few hundred young witches and wizards be?"

The prefects' lounge filled up quickly as students arrived singly or in small groups. All six of the Slytherin prefects arrived together, which Hermione took as a sign of unity for their House. _"Well, good for them!"_ she thought.

Ron and Ginny, both prefects for Gryffindor, straggled in just before the meeting was scheduled to start. Ginny winked at Hermione, who smiled back, but Ron's attention was instantly fixed on Draco Malfoy, who looked scathingly back at the tall redhead.

Ginny, determined to make good on her promise of befriending a member of each House, sidled up to a sixth-year Slytherin.

"Hi Kerry," Ginny whispered. "Bit crowded in here, isn't it?"

The petite raven-haired girl seemed startled by Ginny's friendly overture. Chancing a quick glance at her House contemporaries, she replied, "Hello Weasl…I mean, Ginny. Yeah. Quite a crowd. Erm…did you have a nice summer?"

Ginny was prevented from answering, however, as Ernie cleared his throat before addressing the group.

"Settle down everyone, please." He waited as the jostling for the few remaining seats subsided. "Thank you. As I'm sure you all know, Miss Hermione Granger is Hogwarts' Head Girl this year, and I, Ernie Macmillan, am your new Head Boy." He looked around before continuing, to give the full weight of his words time to sink in.

"I'd like to assure each and every one of you that you needn't treat us any differently than your fellow prefects. After all, despite our differing levels of authority, we're all just students here, aren't we? I'm sure I speak for your Head Girl as well as myself when I urge you not to hesitate any time you feel like asking for our guidance." Ernie beamed at the others. "Thank you! Now, please turn your attention to Miss Granger, who, I'm sure, has prepared a few words of her own."

Catching the amusement in Ginny's eyes enabled Hermione to take Ernie's rather pompous introduction in stride. While she hadn't planned to speak at all, she realised this was an opportunity to revisit the theme of inter-house cooperation alluded to in the Sorting Hat's song.

"Thank you, Ernie, and thank _you_ all, for taking the time to meet tonight." Hermione turned to acknowledge each House's representatives, her smile faltering only slightly as she caught the patronising expressions on the seventh-year Slytherins' faces.

"The current environment in the wizarding world is bound to have an impact on our student body." Hermione continued. "And while there is cause for concern, it is my fervent hope that, by working together, the students and teachers here might be a force for good in these challenging times."

Malfoy chose this moment to begin an animated and completely audible conversation with fellow Slytherin Pansy Parkinson. Hermione raised her voice slightly and forged ahead.

"As the Sorting Hat said, our individual strengths can be combined to make us _so_ much more than the sum of our parts," she urged, despite increasing competition from the conversation now being held between several Slytherin prefects.

Ernie stepped forward, his hand outstretched to prevent Hermione from continuing.

"Please, Mister Malfoy and Miss Parkinson," Ernie began. "Your Head Girl is still speaking. Please have the courtesy to refrain from side conversations until she is finished."

"As if the filthy little mudblood bitch could say anything worth listening to," Malfoy sneered. Pansy snickered, but the rest of the assembled group looked at Malfoy in shock.

"Take that back, you pasty-faced swine!" Ron shouted, jumping to his feet. Ginny's eyes blazed, her fists clenched at her sides.

"Manners, Weasel," came Malfoy's cool reply. "I was just stating the plain truth. Dumbledore's clearly lost his marbles if he expects us to listen to _that_ piece of rubbish."

Before Malfoy had time to duck, Ron lunged forward, grabbed the Slytherin by the front of his robes, and landed a solid punch squarely on his delicate nose.

Malfoy responded with a head butt to Ron's eye. The situation was quickly getting out of control. Almost all of the non-combatants had their wands out, but were at a loss as to which spell to cast, or where to cast it.

Hermione and Ginny were desperately trying to pull Ron off the struggling figure of Malfoy when the door burst open and a stern voice rang out.

"Stop this! Stop this at ONCE!" Professor McGonagall, flanked by Professors Snape and Sprout, looked angrier than Hermione had ever seen her. Just behind McGonagall, Hermione thought she could see tiny Professor Flitwick hopping up in a vain attempt to see into the room.

"Mister Weasley, I suggest you refrain from strangling Mister Malfoy, unless you are sincere in your desire to leave this school on tomorrow's train." Snape's honeyed voice would almost be soothing, thought Hermione, if he didn't look like a panther getting ready to spring.

Ernie strode to the door, stepping over the prone forms of Ron and Malfoy. He addressed Professor McGonagall directly.

"Professor, these two," Ernie gestured toward Malfoy and Parkinson, "were being disrespectful of the Head Girl and myself." Ernie's voice was pitched slightly higher than normal, but had lost none of its pompousness. "Weasley overreacted, and we had a bit of a scuffle. Nothing I couldn't handle, of course. You just happened to arrive before I'd had the chance to…"

But Professor McGonagall raised her hand to stop him continuing. "I can see the situation quite clearly for myself, thank you, Mister Macmillan." Turning to the two combatants, she continued. "Mister Malfoy and Mister Weasley. When you have quite finished acting like two year olds, please join Professors Snape, Sprout, Flitwick and myself in the hallway."

The four teachers then proceeded to the hallway, where they waited with crossed arms and varying levels of exasperation for the boys to emerge.

Ron got to his feet and went out to join them. Malfoy plucked several brilliant red hairs from his robes. Putting his hands in his pockets, he followed Ron out with a quick smile at Pansy Parkinson.

"_Bloody brilliant, Granger!"_ Hermione thought ruefully. _"Your first week as Head Girl, and you can't keep your best friend from breaking that evil little git's nose."_

"Well, that's not the BEST example of inter-house cooperation I could have asked for," she joked to the remaining prefects. "But anyway, let's put it behind us, and focus on making this our best year _ever_ at Hogwarts. We'll meet here again, same time next Tuesday. Thanks, everyone."

Five minutes later Hermione was settled in front of her own little fireplace, a cup of hot cocoa in one hand and a copy of Jane Austen's_ Sense and Sensibility_ in the other. Crookshanks was curled up on the worn hearthrug, purring and licking his front paws.

"Nothing like good old creature comforts, is there, handsome?" Hermione breathed. "Let's see how our valiant Colonel is faring today, shall we?" With that, she became immersed in a world where no one had ever heard of Dementors, pureblood wizards, or Harry Potter.

**Chapter Three: The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same **

At breakfast the next morning, Ron looked as if he'd made a wildly unsuccessful stab at using a cosmetic charm. Purple, yellow and bluish bruises radiated out from his left eye. The lid was so swollen it remained halfway closed, in a parody of a mischievous wink.

"For heaven's sake, Ron!" Hermione chided, "Can't you get Madam Pomfrey to do something about that? It's grotesque!"

"Considering I was in detention with the Amazing Bouncing Ferret until two in the morning, I was lucky to get any bloody sleep at all, never mind my pretty face." Ron's tone made it clear that all discussion of his black eye was over.

"Look on the bright side, though," Ginny chipped in. "Malfoy's little button nose looks more like a lopsided eggplant today." Sure enough, a glance at the Slytherin table showed a very put-out looking Malfoy gingerly touching his swollen, discoloured and very crooked nose.

The Gryffindor table exploded in laughter at this, and for the first time since the start of classes, Hermione felt genuinely happy.

As they left the Great Hall, Hermione was surprised to see Malfoy walking briskly away from the other seventh-year Slytherins. _"That's odd!"_ Hermione thought. _"He's_ _headed to the Owlery. He'll be late for class!" _

Harry and Hermione were the only Gryffindors in Advanced Potions. While Snape usually only allowed students with top marks on their OWLs to continue with Potions, McGonagall had prevailed upon Dumbledore to make an exception in Harry's case. McGonagall had vowed, during Harry's fifth year, to help him on his path to becoming an Auror, and she was as good as her word.

"Welcome to Advanced Potions, everyone," said Professor Benson as he approached the front of the room. "I'm sure you've come to expect a very high level of teaching in this course. Professor Snape's reputation in this field is, after all, unsurpassed. I can only hope that my meagre efforts will at least prepare you for your upcoming NEWT examinations."

Hermione glanced at Harry, who returned a hopeful smile_. "Well, I guess he's got something to be thankful for, hasn't he?"_ she thought. _"We're a full three minutes into class, and no one's criticised, humiliated or penalised him yet. Here's hoping!"_

As she had predicted, Malfoy sauntered into class a full five minutes late. Professor Benson said nothing, however, and Malfoy took his seat, pausing only to throw a disdainful glance at Harry.

Lamentably, the remainder of the class period confirmed Professor Benson's initial assessment of his own mediocre teaching skills. While his manners were distinctly more appealing than those of his predecessor, Bernard Benson seemed almost indifferent toward his chosen field. Whereas Snape had prowled around the classroom looking for reasons to take away House points, Benson never left his desk. After directing the students' attention to the blackboard, the new Professor sat down and opened a copy of the Daily Prophet. The class copied the instructions, prepared their ingredients, and began brewing veritaserum in silence.

On her way to Honors Level Transfiguration, Hermione overheard Ravenclaw Mandy Brocklehurst mutter, "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm really going to miss old Snape!"

"_That makes two of us, Mandy!"_ Hermione silently agreed.

Ron had saved seats for Harry and Hermione in the Transfiguration classroom. Professor McGonagall soon bustled in, looking even crankier than she had the previous night.

"As you are no doubt aware," McGonagall began in clipped tones, "your course of study in the seventh year is almost entirely geared toward preparing you to sit your NEWTs. I will not waste time coddling any student who lacks the self-control necessary for this endeavor." Ron cringed, uncomfortably aware of McGonagall's stern gaze.

Professor McGonagall gestured to a large stack of crates in one corner. "Mister Longbottom and Mister Potter, please see that each student gets a crate."

Neville and Harry approached the crates cautiously, as several of them had begun to wobble.

"Today we will begin by transforming jarveys into common ferrets. This transfiguration, while seemingly simple, is actually quite challenging. Can anyone tell me why?"

To no one's surprise, Hermione raised her hand. "The jarvey, though it looks like an overgrown ferret, differs significantly in its abilities." The Professor nodded, indicating that Hermione should continue. "Although their vocabularies leave much to be desired, the fact that jarveys can actually speak means they are considered borderline sentient beings."

"Correct, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor." Professor McGonagall set one of the crates down on her desk, opened it, and took out a large, tawny ferret-like creature.

The jarvey, obviously encouraged by being the centre of attention, wasted no time. "Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelled of elderberries!" it shrieked, glaring up at McGonagall's stern profile.

The Professor, unfazed by the jarvey's verbal abuse, continued. "A successful jarvey-to-ferret transfiguration must occur in several stages. The physical form, while biologically akin to the standard house ferret, must be reduced, like so…" She flicked her wand sharply to the right, then diagonally across to the left as she said _"Condensio!"_ The jarvey shrank instantly, but still ranted about Professor McGonagall's parentage in unflattering terms.

"The jarvey's ability to speak would certainly be inappropriate in a ferret, so that is the next aspect of the transfiguration to address. Luckily, we have a well-known charm that serves this purpose most adequately. She waved her wand, said _"Silencio!"_ and was faced with a mute, but still furious-looking, pseudo-ferret.

"The final stage of this transfiguration is to alter the animal's behaviour. While this may now look and sound like a ferret, you only have to watch its expression to realise that it sincerely wishes to speak, though it cannot. Again, a standard charm will do. _Obliviate_!" she said, pointing her wand at the animal. Instantly, the former jarvey assumed a more docile expression.

"I've posted the steps and related wand work on the board, should you need reminding. Please use the remainder of the class period to practice on the jarvey in front of you."

Hermione opened her box and pulled out a jet black jarvey. She would have been tempted to pet its sleek fur if it hadn't picked that moment to shout "You don't frighten me, English pig-dog! I blow my nose on you, you and your silly English K...kaniggets!"

"_Fine,"_ Hermione thought resignedly, _"you asked for it!"_ and proceeded to transform the animal in three accurate steps.

Ron, however, was having considerable difficulty. For starters, his jarvey bore a striking resemblance to the pure white ferret that Draco Malfoy had been transformed into during their fourth year at Hogwarts. This particular animal was also much more aggressive than the others. In a mocking voice, it said,

"Go and boil your bottom, you son of a silly person, you empty-headed animal, food trough wiper." Ron's wand trembled in his fist as the jarvey continued its abuse. "I fart in your general direction, you toffee-nosed, malodorous pervert!"

"SHUT IT!" Ron ground out, pointing his wand at the jarvey as he prepared to shrink it. Unfortunately, the jarvey chose that moment to leap off the table, catching Ron's long nose in its razor-sharp teeth.

"AAARRGGH! Gid id off! GID ID OFF!" Ron tried to shake the jarvey loose, but it clung tenaciously to his now-bleeding nose.

A bolt of bright orange energy shot out of Ron's wand, hitting the jarvey. As if it were a very dry Christmas tree at the end of the holidays, the jarvey shed its fur at an alarming rate. The recently-denuded animal released its hold, dropped to the floor, and scurried under McGonagall's desk. The Professor was livid.

"MISTER WEASLEY! Do NOT tell me you lack the simple intelligence to follow procedure for this transfiguration. When, may I ask, did I indicate the use of a depilatory curse?"

"But…but…" Ron, his nose dripping blood onto the desktop, blushed so violently that his face nearly matched his hair. "It BIT me! And you heard what that little bastard called me!"

"ENOUGH! Twenty points from Gryffindor for intentional damage to school property, and another night's detention. Weasley, you will stay here to clean up this mess. The rest of the class is dismissed."

Ron was so late getting to lunch that he almost missed the spaghetti bolognese, green salad and crusty baguettes served that day.

As he loaded his plate with food, Ron fumed. "I saw that little…that stupid…albino rodent sneering up at me, and it looked just like Malfoy…just LIKE him, dammit…"

"Ron! Language!" Ginny whispered, pointing toward the Head Table, where several of the teachers had turned to look at the Gryffindors.

"And I think, okay-it's just a jarvey. Just another dumb animal to change into some _other_ dumb animal, no big deal…" Ron slammed both hands down on the table so hard that several goblets wobbled dangerously, "…then the fecking thing ATTACKS me, and I'm supposed to do…what? NOTHING? Just stand there with a bloody great ferret hanging off my nose?"

"Ron, sshh! Honestly, you don't want the other teachers coming over here, do you?" Hermione reasoned. "I thought the jarveys were pretty offensive too, but don't you see? It doesn't take much to earn a detention when everyone's on edge. All of the teachers are anxious-Hagrid, Professor Flitwick, even Professor McGonagall…"

Glancing at the Head Table, Hermione continued, "I guess part of growing up is realising that the adults don't have all the answers. They're just as worried as everybody else—just as human."

"I'll grant you _that_, Hermione, with one exception," Ron replied with a wry expression. "Nothing will _ever_ make me believe that old bat Snape is human."

With a good deal of apprehension, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron headed toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They were unusually quiet as they chose seats in the back of the room, each one running his or her own internal monologue.

"_For the love of Merlin, I'm dead."_ Harry thought. _"This is the year. I know it is. Voldemort's coming for me, and the one person I thought might help me survive turns out to be Snape. I am a dead man."_

Hermione tried to stay positive and trust to Dumbledore's wisdom. _"Professor Snape would never hurt me, and I know he's really on our side, I __know__ it. Just keep telling myself that…"_

"_Why, why, why, why, WHY?"_ Neville was approaching utter panic. _"I can't breathe. If I pass out now, maybe they'll send me up to the infirmary and I can stay there…what? Forever? Well, maybe at least until the end of the school year…"_

Ron felt ready to snap. _"Greasy git, probably wants a new way to torture us. Got bored with trying to poison Harry, so now Snape gets to hex him, any time he feels like it! Right under Dumbledore's nose! What was Dumbledore thinking, anyway? God, I hate my life."_

The sharp bang of the classroom door against the wall announced the arrival of their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Turning swiftly toward the class, Snape spoke in subdued tones.

"This class, like it or not, will undoubtedly be the single most important one of your careers." He paused. "As your teacher, I would be doing you a grave disservice if I allowed you to do anything less than your best work here. I therefore expect your undivided attention at all times, and your unquestioning acceptance of everything that I ask of you. Anyone who feels they are above this," he looked straight at Harry, "can leave now and not return. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." The class replied in unison. Both Ron and Neville looked anxiously at Harry, who set his mouth in a determined line.

"Very well. We will start with the study of Occlumency. Get out your quills and parchment, and be prepared to take notes."

"Occlumency, an obscure branch of magical study, is a mental discipline which enables the practitioner to selectively block memories and feelings that they wish to hide. A skilled Occlumens is capable of lying to even the most experienced Legilimens, since they can literally shut down any memory, thought or feeling which challenges the lie they wish to have believed." As the scratch of quills on parchment abated, Snape strode to the centre of the classroom.

"Now, a brief demonstration. Potter, get your wand and come here."

Hermione made a small sound of despair. She, like Harry, knew what was coming. Harry had been forced to study Occlumency with Professor Snape in their fifth year. Their mutual antagonism had made this difficult, and Harry had dropped the lessons after only a few months.

"Wand at the ready, Potter." Professor Snape's eyes glittered. "On the count of three. One, two, three…_LEGILIMENS_!"

It was clear that Harry was in a great deal of discomfort. The hand holding his wand shook violently, and Harry grimaced as he tried to gain some control over the situation. In a matter of seconds, Harry crashed to his knees, breathing heavily, and Snape turned triumphantly toward the rest of the class.

"Now, Potter, I want you to tell your classmates what just happened."

Harry rose to his feet, looked Snape directly in the eye, and said, "Yes, SIR. I was back at the Riddle graveyard. Cedric Diggory was lying there, dead, and I saw Pettigrew coming at me." Several students gasped.

"Continue."

"No. I can't…it's too…" Harry shook his head, as if he were trying to erase the memories he'd been forced to relive.

"Potter, if you do NOT comply with this simple request, you will be out of this class, permanently. Tell your classmates what you saw."

"I…I remembered being surrounded by Death Eaters in the Prophecy Vault at the Department of Mysteries. The Lestrange woman was coming at Ginny, saying she would…would…torture her until I handed over the prophecy." A strangled cry escaped Ron's lips, and Neville was visibly trembling.

"And the last memory, Potter?"

"No, don't." Harry clutched his forehead, as if in pain. "Don't make me say it. I can't…I won't…"

"Tell the class _now_, Potter, or leave."

"Fine. FINE. The last memory I relived was when Sirius…when my godfather, Sirius Black, fell through the veil and was lost during the battle with the Death Eaters." Still white and shaking, Harry looked defiantly at Professor Snape, who gestured for him to return to his seat.

"Well done, Potter." Snape said, more to himself than to the class.

"Your assignment—catalog and analyse all references to Occlumency and/or Legilimency in the first three chapters of _The Dark Arts Outsmarted. _Also, I want each one of you to practice clearing your mind of emotions every night before bed. Class dismissed."

Ginny, Neville and Hermione did their best to cheer Harry up during dinner. Ron, on the other hand, seemed determined to stir up trouble again.

"Can you believe that sadistic _git_?" Ron raged. "It's almost worth getting expelled for the sheer pleasure of cursing his slimy arse."

"Settle down, Ron!" Ginny cautioned. "Honestly! Are you _looking_ to get another detention?" She had taken the seat next to Harry, and patted his arm soothingly. "Don't listen to him, Harry. I'm sure Professor Snape, though he may seem harsh, really does have your best interests at heart. He's part of the Order, after all."

Hermione chose to use a Centreing Meditation in her effort to clear her mind of emotions before bed that night. Her parents had always encouraged Hermione in any branch of study she chose to pursue; at one point, this had included yoga, meditation, and alternative healing techniques. The Centreing Meditation, Hermione had discovered, was simple yet quite effective.

"_First, some slow, deep breaths. With each in-breath, I imagine pulling my scattered energy and attention back to myself…my calm inner centre. On each exhalation, I release all stress and negativity, while visualising brilliant sunlight filling my heart."_

Hermione enjoyed a very peaceful night's sleep, and could not recall a single dream when she awoke.

Classes on Thursday were, on the whole, predictable. The teachers were assigning much more homework than in previous years, but as Hermione had always worked well ahead, this made no difference in her study habits.

At dinner that evening, Hermione mentally reviewed the Occlumency demonstration she'd witnessed the previous day. It disturbed her to think that Professor Snape had deliberately humiliated Harry. Was Snape just being malicious, or had he chosen Harry because he was the only student who had previous experience with Occlumency? As if she might read the answer from his countenance, Hermione's gaze fell on a familiar black-robed form at the Head Table.

Snape raised his head and met her glance. One black eyebrow quirked up, questioningly. Hermione hadn't meant to stare, but there was something oddly compelling in his look. Were his lips moving? Had he said something?

Suddenly, the rest of the Great Hall blurred and faded from sight. Instead, Hermione found herself in the hospital wing, standing next to the bed of a younger Harry. Sirius Black (in his animagus form), Ron, Bill and Mrs. Weasley were also in the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape stood nearby in urgent conversation with a belligerent-looking Cornelius Fudge.

"He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be…" Fudge pleaded.

Hermione knew what was coming next. She had been horrified three years earlier when Snape had uncovered the repulsive Dark Mark burned into his left forearm. The older Hermione, however, felt an almost overwhelming wave of compassion. Snape was always the outsider…alone and friendless. What had driven him to join with the Death Eaters? And why hadn't she realised how much courage Snape had shown at the end of her fourth year, when he'd willingly gone back into danger at Dumbledore's request?

The Great Hall came back into view, and Hermione found herself once again staring into Snape's glittering black eyes. She quickly turned away, with the unsettling notion that she had just experienced Legilimency, first-hand.

**Chapter Four: Legilimency is Not for the Faint of Heart **

Hermione felt strangely drained, as if she were recovering from a virus. While she recognised the importance of her Centreing Meditation, she could bring herself to do no more than undress before dropping heavily into bed that night.

She was asleep almost instantly. Crookshanks looked at his mistress with his head cocked to one side, as if trying to make some sense out of her one-way conversation.

"I can't do it. God no, please! Not again! Please, don't ask…!" she whimpered, her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow. "They'll know! How can I…?" She sobbed, clenching her fists into her heavy blanket.

Eventually she seemed to settle down, though her breath still came in short gasps. "Yes, alright," she choked out. "I understand. No, I realise there is no other choice."

In her dream, Hermione had been pleading with Dumbledore. He was asking her to resume her role as a Death Eater and return, as Dumbledore's spy, to Voldemort's side. Despite the very real risk of exposure, torture and death, Hermione had, in her dream, eventually accepted the responsibility. And somehow, her compliance had freed her from fear.

Now her dream changed. She was alone in the Library, and it was late. By the light of a single candle, she pored through page after page, book after book, searching desperately for something. Her head pounded, her back ached from untold hours spent in one position, but she couldn't rest…she had to continue…had to find the answer…

As she reached for yet another heavy volume, she realised that she was no longer alone. A whisper of cloth against cloth, and suddenly the light from the candle was extinguished. She made as if to cry out, but a hand clamped over her mouth.

"Shhh…" came a soft, masculine voice at her neck. "It's alright." He dropped his hand, knuckles turning in to lightly brush her bare throat at the collar of her robe.

Torn between alarm and curiosity, Hermione tried to turn around and see her visitor.

The man's breath stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck as he whispered, "Close your eyes. You have my word, I will never hurt you."

Hermione closed her eyes and began to focus on slowing her own breathing and heart rate. While still not entirely calm, she somehow knew she could trust this man. Hermione allowed her head to droop backwards, turning her face until the tip of her nose just grazed the rough skin at his jaw line.

"Good, that's right…just relax." His fingers traced a slow course out toward her shoulder, moving so gently that she felt no more than the slightest touch against her collarbone.

"Are you cold?" the man continued as he circled in front of Hermione, leaning back against the table to face her. Hermione soon found her icy fingers grasped in two warm hands. Tightening his grip, he lifted slightly, indicating to Hermione that she should stand. She did, and it was the most natural thing in the world to lean toward the source of all that warmth, as two strong arms pulled her close. Never in her life had Hermione felt such a perfect sense of belonging. Her heart singing, she spent the rest of the long night in her dream companion's embrace, completely secure, accepted, and loved.

The sense of wholeness and perfect understanding stayed with Hermione as she awoke. Unfortunately, reality soon made an unwelcome appearance in the form of a very hungry orange cat.

"Ahh, it was only a dream," Hermione sighed as she scratched under Crookshanks' chin. She shook her head to dispel the last of the soothing vision. "Well come on then, let's get you some breakfast!"

Hermione was very subdued during her morning classes. Over lunch, Harry and Ron questioned Hermione about her mood.

"You 'kay, Hermione?" Ron asked. "You seem…I dunno…a bit quiet today."

"Yeah, I don't think you've raised your hand once so far," Harry added as he helped himself to a treacle tart.

She wanted to answer, but how could Hermione describe the longing, the almost unbearable sense of loss, that she'd felt since awakening? And even if she _could_ tell her friends, how would they react?

"Well, it's really just work, you know," she bluffed. "I've got a lot to think about this year, what with NEWTs and my Head Girl duties." The boys, having never given much thought to schoolwork, merely shrugged. This was just one more thing they would never understand about their friend.

Their attention was drawn suddenly to the Head Table as Ron and Ginny's older brother Percy strode briskly up to the Headmaster with an outstretched hand.

"Have things ever been straightened out at home?" Hermione asked worriedly. She'd prayed that the terrible rift between Percy and his family would have been resolved by now, but Ron's reaction soon set any hope for that aside.

"You mean with the great Ministry Official?" Ron tossed his head toward the former Head Boy with disgust. "Yeah, _right_. We're all one big happy family again."

Ginny looked worried. "I didn't hear anything about him visiting Hogwarts. You don't suppose there's something wrong at home, do you?"

Percy had finished talking to the Headmaster, and was making his way proudly toward the Gryffindor table.

"Ah, excellent," Percy said as he took an empty seat next to Ginny. "Pass me one of those jam tarts, would you, Ron? Things may not always go according to Ministry specifications here, but I'll never say a word against Hogwarts' kitchens."

"I think things go just _fine_ here, Percy." Ginny bristled.

Percy brushed her response away as if it were a bothersome insect. "Let's see…ah, yes. Lovely to see you again, Hermione." Hermione smiled in acknowledgement as Percy continued, "Neville, looking stout as always, old man." Neville looked exquisitely uncomfortable, but Percy's gaze shifted to the table's remaining occupant. "Ah yes, of course. Harry."

"Percy," Harry said, without looking up from his plate. An uncomfortable silence descended over the group until Hermione brought up the subject of Percy's surprise visit.

"You're here on Ministry business, then?" she inquired politely.

"Yes, indeed!" Percy straightened perceptibly in his chair, one hand smoothing back his impeccably groomed hair. "Yes, the Minister himself asked me to set aside my other priorities for the moment," Percy glanced around quickly and lowered his voice, "to deliver a rather _confidential_ message to Dumbledore. Naturally, this was the sort of thing he couldn't entrust to just anyone…"

Ron rolled his eyes and nudged Harry, but Harry kept his eyes on the remains of his dessert, which he pushed around on his plate with the edge of a table knife.

"Feeling out of sorts, Harry?" Percy interjected. Harry shook his head, grabbed his bookbag, and rose from the table. Hermione noticed him rubbing the famous scar on his forehead as he walked toward the exit.

"Tsk tsk! What a shame!" Percy's words were at odds with his tone, which Hermione would have sworn contained something like triumph. "Harry seems a bit…unsettled. Poor boy! Well, I won't say I told you so, but I _do_ remember urging you to exercise caution in your choice of friends, Ron."

"Come on," Ron said, standing abruptly. "Harry's right. We don't want to be late for class." He shot a nasty glare at his older brother before continuing. "That is, of course, if the Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic will excuse us…?" Percy nodded regally before turning his attentions back to his jam tart.

Friday afternoon was scheduled to be double Defense Against the Dark Arts. Fortunately for Harry, Ron and Neville, the weekend began immediately afterwards. As long as they survived three hours with Snape, they could relax and start to enjoy life again after class. Unfortunately, Hermione's experience at dinner the previous night, coupled with her emotionally charged dreams, made her very apprehensive about attempting Occlumency.

Snape began class with rapid-fire questions, apparently determined to test his students' understanding of their assigned reading.

"Who can name three essential conditions for the establishment of a Legilimency connection?"

No one, not even Malfoy, responded. Reluctantly, Hermione raised her hand.

"Very well then, Miss Granger," Snape spat. "Enlighten us."

"Proximity of the two participants is essential, as is maintaining eye contact, Sir. Also, timing is crucial. An attempt is most likely to succeed when the intended subject is in a highly emotional or uncontrolled state."

"An adequate, if _uninspiring_, response, Miss Granger," Snape replied. "Can anyone else list the standard charms that are most effective at blocking Legilimency?"

Most of the class kept their eyes glued to the classroom floor, as if they expected the answer to appear on the cold stones. Again, Hermione's hand came up.

"Sir, shield charms are the most frequently used defense; however, there are documented instances of the confundus, imperturbable, impedimentia and severing charms being used to some effect. Hex deflection, the obliviate spell, and even a modified banishment charm have also been used, according to the author of _The Dark Arts Outsmarted_."

"Yes, thank you for summarising the assignment for the rest of the class, Miss Granger," Snape mockingly replied. He then turned toward the Slytherins. "Mister Malfoy, come up here. Bring your wand."

Malfoy sauntered to the front of the room, brushing his white blonde hair away from his face while staring haughtily at the assembled Gryffindors.

"Let's see how Mister Malfoy does. Ready?"

Malfoy nodded confidently, his wand raised.

"On the count of three, then. One, two, three…_LEGILIMENS_!"

Unlike the encounter between Harry and Snape earlier in the week, Malfoy showed no evidence of emotional distress. True, his eyes were narrowed and his wand shook as if it were trembling in a strong breeze, but the arrogant smile on his face never faltered.

Hermione looked instead at Professor Snape. He almost, but not quite, seemed as impassive as always. Hermione thought, though, that she could just see a hint of…what was it? Disgust? Loathing? Fear? Horror?…flash across Snape's features before he abruptly severed the connection.

Snape silently gestured for Malfoy to resume his seat. Malfoy, apparently feeling he'd done quite well, tossed his head back and stared in challenge at Harry.

After a moment of utter silence, Snape seemed to recover himself. Seeing Neville hiding in the darkest corner of the room, he stalked toward the trembling Gryffindor. After his unsettling experience with Malfoy, Snape was apparently going for an easy "kill." Hermione hurried to provide a distraction.

"Excuse me, Professor."

Snape, looking every bit the frustrated predator, snapped back, "_Yes_, Miss Granger? What could you possibly have to say that warrants your continued disruption of this class?"

"Please, Professor. I was wondering, what is the mechanism by which these memories are selected? I mean, what determines which memories are brought to the forefront?"

"That, Miss Granger, is a question which can be most effectively answered through demonstration. Since you have put yourself forward, shall we see what that legendary brain of yours is hoarding?" He gestured for her to stand in the centre of the classroom.

Grasping her wand, Hermione stood facing Snape. He swung around angrily to face her, his black cloak billowing in his wake. The wing of black cloth swirling around the man reminded Hermione of Ron and Harry's favorite nickname for the Professor. She smothered a chuckle as the image of Snape, the giant bat, flashed through her mind.

Thinking he'd catch her off guard, Snape began. "One, two, three_, LEGILIMENS_!"

The classroom swam before Hermione's eyes, replaced suddenly by bright sunlight and a green meadow. Hermione saw herself at the age of three, toddling after a pure white billy goat, grasping at its tail and laughing uproariously every time the goat moved forward. Next she was with an eight year old Hermione, sitting between her parents in a darkened movie theatre. Her mother clapped her hands together and struggled to catch her breath while her father's whooping laugh echoed in her ears. On the screen, Holland, Pendlebury, Lackery and Shorty were up to no good in _The Lavender Hill Mob_. Then she was in the Gryffindor common room after Harry's success in the first Triwizard Task. An oversized canary stood there with a bewildered look on its face, while Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors roared with laughter at the sight of Neville in full feather.

Snape broke the link and Hermione's consciousness returned to the classroom. Maybe it was just a side effect of reliving such happy memories, but Hermione could have sworn that something like laughter sparkled in Snape's black eyes. She smiled shyly at her Professor, and wondered if anyone would ever believe she'd shared a pleasant moment with such a man.

Snape assigned a two-roll essay on the use of Legilimency in Magical Jurisprudence as homework, then dismissed the class.

**Chapter Five: Watching and Waiting **

The weekend came, and with it, the first signs of autumn. Harry, Ginny, Neville, Ron and Luna decided to take a stroll around the lake and urged Hermione to join them.

"C'mon, Hermione," Ron wheedled. "You've got all weekend to study. We're going to see if the giant squid will take some Puking Pastilles. You've got to see that!"

Hermione shuddered, trying to suppress a mental image of the mess involved if Ron succeeded in his quest.

"No thanks, Ron!" Hermione replied, smiling. "I'd been considering it, but now you've told me your plans, I intend to run straight to the Library with no regrets! Have fun, and _try_ to stay out of trouble, hmm?"

Bored with the endless political maneuvering and scheming of his own House, Severus Snape had ventured from the dungeons in search of diversion. As it was not a Quidditch weekend, the Library seemed a logical starting point. If he failed to find any new books or periodicals that caught his interest, there was always the possibility of taking House points to make the trip worthwhile.

When he arrived, Snape noticed Hermione Granger seated at a central table, apparently engrossed in _Codicils, Codes and Curses: Historical Application of Jurisprudence in Prosecuting the Dark Arts. _

As she read, the young Gryffindor idly twirled a long curl of hair around her finger and sighed. Snape, who had begun sifting through some books on a shelf at the far end of the table, paused and looked up.

As if cued by a stagehand, a dazzling beam of sunlight spilled from a high window, accentuating the contrast between Hermione's coffee-coloured hair and her pale skin. A warm, healthy glow suffused her cheeks, and her mouth curved up slightly at the corners in a self-deprecating smile.

For an instant, Snape's breathing stopped and he listened to the sound of his own pulse thrumming in his ears. The girl had no idea that, in this perfect moment, her serenity and contented isolation were balms that soothed his anguished heart. In a long life filled with darkness and regret, these oases of enchantment were things to be treasured.

Snape turned back to the shelf in front of him. Suddenly he gasped, clutching his left forearm tightly across his chest. The Dark Mark was burning viciously, as if it had burst into flame. Snape suppressed a curse and strode off at a very fast pace toward the Headmaster's office.

That night at dinner, Hermione asked Ginny how her mission of befriending other Houses was going.

"I suppose you could say I'm having moderate success," said Ginny, winking.

"That's the understatement of the century!" Ron groaned, rolling his eyes. "Tell Hermione what you're doing tomorrow, Gin!"

"Oh, he's upset because I told Kerry Kennelly I'd spend the afternoon helping with her flying," Ginny retorted. "Just because she's in Slytherin House, Ron's got this lame idea that she's scheming to…I don't know…throw me off my broom, or spy out my Quidditch strategy or something stupid like that."

Just then Luna Lovegood wandered over from the Ravenclaw table.

"Hi everybody," she said quietly, moving to take a seat next to Ron, who skittled as far from Luna as he could without falling off the end of the bench. Unfazed, Luna continued in her singsong voice, "Ron's mad because I tried to kiss him this afternoon and he didn't much fancy it. Did you, Ronald?"

Hermione and Ginny both suppressed giggles at this news, while Harry suddenly because very focused on his steak and kidney pudding. Neville looked politely surprised, and Ron blushed to the roots of his hair.

"For pity's sake, Luna! Can't you give a fellow a break?"

"But why? Everyone knows I like you, Ron. Why should I make a secret of it?" Luna asked. "And you said," she smiled dreamily, "…you _said _you fancied me, too. Were you just making that up?"

"Even if…I mean…that doesn't…uhh, _IF_…what you said…" Ron stuttered, "Dammit Luna, a man likes to do things in his own way!" Ron ground out. "And I don't think we should be having this conversation here, or now…"

"Alright, then. I'll come back after dessert." Luna stood up and drifted back toward the Ravenclaw table.

Not knowing quite where to steer the conversation after that bombshell, Hermione contrived a sudden interest in the Head Table. Her feigned fascination with its inhabitants quickly turned into real concern, however, as she noticed that the place ordinarily occupied by Professor Snape was empty.

"Had anyone heard whether Professor Snape planned to go away?" Hermione tried to sound nonchalant, despite the sudden fear that gripped her heart. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville all turned to scan the Head Table with Hermione, but no one saw any sign of their severe Professor.

"Well, at least _something's_ going my way, finally!" Ron sighed. "I hope the bastard stays away a good long time…permanently, if I'm really, really lucky!"

Sunday was nothing short of dismal. An icy drizzle fell almost constantly, and the moaning cries of Hagrid's captive Augurey could be heard echoing around the school grounds.

Ginny and Kerry's planned foray into broomstick techniques had to be put off. Instead, the two girls huddled together in the library, comparing notes on everything from past boyfriends to career plans. Ron sat off to one side, clearly torn between a desire to protect his little sister and the instinct to distance himself as much as possible from their girlish chatter.

"_They're really hitting it off,"_ Hermione thought as she glanced at Kerry and Ginny. _"Ginny is _such_ a wonderful person. Someday, I hope Harry realises how lucky he is." _Hermione knew that, regardless of her casual romances over the past two years, Ginny's heart would always belong to Harry.

Despite her hopes for Ginny and Kerry's budding friendship, Hermione felt no happier today than she had the night before. The dreary weather only served to underscore her worry over the absence of Professor Snape. Not many students knew of his secret work for Dumbledore and the Order, but Hermione strongly suspected it was the cause of his sudden disappearance.

She remembered, with a sudden chill, her nightmare of the previous Wednesday. The feeling of being trapped, forced into unspeakable horrors, with no sanctuary, nothing to come between you and the brutal realities of the war…

Shaking herself, she decided to put off her plans of studying that day. Physical exertion, she realised, was the only way to sidetrack her mind from the persistent gloom in which it was now mired. After putting on her warmest hooded cloak, galoshes and a pair of gloves, Hermione made her way to the Entrance Hall, and from there out across the school grounds.

As she sloshed through puddle after puddle, Hermione focused on the changes taking place in the natural world surrounding her.

"_Autumn feels like the Earth is getting ready for bed after a hard day,"_ she mused. _"The days are shorter, the air is soft and sad, and nature seems to be settling in for a good, long sleep."_

The smell of cool, wet earth drifted up from Hagrid's famous pumpkin patch. Close at hand, fallen leaves slowly decomposed on the forest floor, their sweet smell mingling with smoke from Hagrid's chimney. Looking back toward the school, Hermione thought the lighted windows looked homey and welcoming, like softly sparkling jewels set in the castle's stone walls. Children playing in their common rooms or studying in the library…teachers making lesson plans in front of roaring fires…these were heartening, comfortable thoughts.

Hermione wondered just how long this deceptive tranquility would last. She remembered the lives that had been lost-Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black, that man, Bode, from the Department of Mysteries-and so many others. The sheer number of deaths and disappearances was almost overwhelming. And what about the others, who were still physically present, but whose lives had been destroyed? Neville, who would never know his parents since they'd been rendered insane by the cruelty of the Death Eaters. Harry, who had never felt his mother's love, never been shown how to ride a broomstick by his doting father… Hermione's heart ached as she thought of what life might have been like for her friends in a different reality.

Her thoughts turned to Professor Snape. She was convinced that, in a better world, with a past untainted by the Dark Mark, he could have been a good man. _"No…"_ she corrected herself, _"…a __great_ _man."_ But what had his choices cost him? How much humanity was left after the years of darkness had taken their toll on his heart? She grieved for them all, for what they were and what they could have been, if only…

"_If only Tom Riddle had __stayed__ Tom Riddle. If only he'd been brave enough to face mortality and obscurity, like the rest of us."_ And strangely, despite his lust for power and immortality, at this moment Voldemort seemed only pitiable. Hermione wished she could feel hatred for him. She wished she had the courage to take on the whole lot of them, in defense of her friends, her world, her way of life. But she was only one girl, adrift in a sea of despair, pity, and fear for the future.

Coming back to the moment, she realised that standing in the gray drizzle at sundown would solve nothing. She silently made her way back to the school, heedless of the cold rain that now fell in ever-thickening sheets.

Hermione's reflective mood continued through dinner. She shrugged off her friends' anxious queries, focusing her attention instead on the Head Table and its inhabitants. There was still no sign of Professor Snape. The Headmaster and Professor McGonagall, neither of whom was smiling, maintained a whispered conversation. Hermione had always been comforted by Dumbledore's presence, yet tonight there was no solace in his eyes when he happened to glance her way. For the first time in their acquaintance, Dumbledore looked sadly at Hermione before turning back to McGonagall.

**Chapter Six: Through Innocent Eyes **

While sitting through History of Magic the following day, Hermione had a sudden inspiration.

"Pardon me, Professor Binns," she interjected during a lecture on the Wizards' Council elections of 1347. The ghostly Professor droned on for a full thirty seconds before acknowledging Hermione's raised hand.

"Yes, Miss Gangrel?" Binns said in surprise. "Is there something you wish to add?"

"Not exactly, Sir. But I wondered what you could tell us about the use of Legilimency throughout wizarding history."

"I hardly think that is pertinent to the topic at hand, Miss Guthrie."

"I'm sorry, Sir. It's just that Legilimency is of great interest, given the current state of the wizarding world." Hermione persisted. "You know what they say, Professor-'Those who fail to learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.' Won't you help us understand this very obscure, yet _relevant_ area of magical history?"

Professor Binns disliked having his routine disturbed by anything so mundane as questions from students, however the polite request of this young woman appealed to his sense of chivalry.

"Very well, Miss Gertrude. As I am sure you have heard, Legilimency and Occlumency are rarely practiced. During times of peace, for example, they are all but forgotten. However, history shows us that, in the years preceding any major uprising, certain…ahem…_elements_ of the magical community make a concerted effort to re-learn these techniques."

Hermione's hand was once again in the air. "By 'certain elements,' you mean…whom, Professor?"

"Dark Wizards, Miss Glorfindel." (pause) "Those steeped in the Darkest of Magic. Practitioners of Evil." (another pause) "_Those_ elements." Professor Binns proceeded to list, in great detail, the combatants in each major Wizarding conflict over the previous thousand years. When he finally got to the twentieth century, the class suddenly became interested again.

"Of course, the Dark Wizard Grindelwald was a master of both Legilimency and Occlumency. We were almost defeated at the end of the year 1944, when Grindelwald and his supporters managed to pry the Order's secret plans out of our most trusted agent. If Albus Dumbledore had not been able to discern Grindelwald's own stratagems, I have no doubt that the Wizarding world would have been irrevocably lost to the Darkness."

Harry couldn't resist leading the conversation toward a topic nearer his own heart. "What about Voldemort, Professor?" Most of the class flinched when Harry said the name. Even Professor Binns, who was long past caring about the woes of the living world, looked slightly uneasy.

"No other wizard in recorded history has ever taken the art of Legilimency as far as the former Tom Riddle." Binns replied. "I have never heard of anyone who was able to guard their innermost thoughts from him, once he chose to direct his attention their way."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry before mentally correcting Binns_. "I know of at least two people who can do that,"_ she thought defiantly. Harry had told her about his sessions with Professor Snape. Snape had suggested that both he and Dumbledore were skilled enough Occlumens that they could block Voldemort's inquiries, showing him only that which they wished him to see.

At dinner, Hermione noticed that Professor Snape's chair was still empty. Just as the desserts were being cleared away, however, a large barn owl fluttered through the Great Hall and deposited a single slip of parchment in front of Dumbledore's plate. After a sharp glance at the note, Dumbledore gestured urgently to Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, who followed close on his heels as he hurried from the Hall.

In bed that night, Hermione prayed that the morning would bring news of their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She had never known him to disappear for such an extended period, and the look of alarm on Dumbledore's face as he rushed from the dinner table had merely intensified her worries.

After another restless night, Hermione made her way to the Great Hall with her heart in her throat. While Snape seldom graced them with his presence at breakfast, she hoped there might be some news, some sign, that he had made it back safely.

Glancing up at the Head Table as she took her seat, Hermione was relieved to see that Dumbledore's eyes had resumed much of their customary sparkle. She smiled hopefully at the Headmaster, who turned her way and inclined his head. It was as if he said "Yes, Miss Granger, everything is quite alright again."

Hermione had an unusually good appetite, making significant progress through her bowl of porridge before the other seventh year Gryffindors arrived.

"I don't think I've ever seen you gobble your food like that, Hermione." Neville said as he took his seat. "I guess you must be really hungry, huh?"

Hermione only nodded, swallowing a spoonful of porridge as she spread orange marmalade on a slice of toast.

"Budge up there, Hermione," Ron said, nudging her as he squeezed in between her and Neville.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said between bites of toast, "There's plenty of empty space on the other side of the table. Do you have to be such a prat?"

Just then, Hermione saw Ron's real motivation for squeezing in, as a very mournful-looking Luna Lovegood made her way toward the group.

"Hello, everyone," she sighed, plopping down across from Hermione.

Almost everyone greeted Luna cheerfully. Ron, looking intently at his plate of kippers, said nothing.

"Good morning, Ron," Luna persisted, with a gentle tap on the back of his hand.

"G'morning," he muttered, continuing to avoid her gaze.

Just then, Ginny marched into the Great Hall and chose a seat next to Luna.

"Hey Luna!" Ginny began, "Would you like to work on our Arithmancy homework together tonight?"

Luna, never taking her eyes off Ron, said she'd like that. Ginny, with a wicked smile on her freckled face, patted Luna heartily on the back.

"Great! Let's just plan on meeting in the library at seven, okay? Don't worry, Luna. We can do _anything_ if we work together!"

Hermione's classes passed in a blur that day. Several nights of uneasy sleep, coupled with her impatience to see if Professor Snape had returned, made it hard to stay focused.

Much to her relief, he had resumed his place at the Head Table for dinner that evening. She honestly did not mean to watch him, but somehow her gaze kept wandering in his direction. Glad as she was to see him, she began to notice some disturbing things about his demeanor and appearance. When a stray lock of hair fell in front of his eyes, he brushed it back with a trembling hand. And while he had never looked particularly well rested, the circles under his eyes tonight were extremely pronounced. If it were possible, Hermione would have said that he'd aged several years since she'd seen him in class the previous Friday.

After picking at his dinner and returning terse answers to his colleagues' questions, Snape rose from the table and walked briskly toward the exit. As he passed Dumbledore's chair, Hermione caught the desperate, haunted look Snape gave the Headmaster. Hermione quickly clamped a hand over her own mouth to keep from crying out.

Hermione and Ernie Macmillan presided over a very uneventful prefects' meeting that night. Ron and Malfoy were very pointedly ignoring each other, which, Hermione noted, was really in everyone's best interest.

Wednesday dawned clear and cold over the castle. Hermione awoke feeling a bit more rested than she had for the past several days. Crookshanks was being especially frisky in the cooler weather. He pounced repeatedly on her feet as she made to lace her shoes before heading to breakfast.

"Troublemaker!" she chided him. "What do you do for entertainment while I'm in class all day?"

Potions class, Advanced Transfiguration and lunch seemed to drag by. Finally it was last period, and Hermione would soon be able to observe Snape closely for the first time since his mysterious disappearance.

Unfortunately, Professor Snape did not seem nearly as pleased to see Hermione as she was to see him.

"FOUR rolls, Miss Granger? I distinctly remember assigning two. As usual, you have seen fit to re-write the assignment to suit your own tastes. Five points from Gryffindor for your presumption."

Ron and Harry looked sympathetically at Hermione, then with unmasked hatred at Snape. Neville shuddered, while Malfoy looked as if Christmas had come early.

Hermione blushed, but refused to look away as Snape stalked toward her.

"Since Miss Granger has done such an _exemplary_ job with her written assignment, perhaps it would be appropriate to re-test her Occlumency skills. After five nights of consistent meditation and dreamless sleep, surely no one can have more control over their emotional responses than she."

He followed this with an exaggerated bow and sweep of his arm. "Shall we…?"

Hermione did a short Centreing Meditation as she crossed the room. Then, with a very clear head and the feeling of absolute control, she raised her wand, staring boldly into Snape's fathomless black eyes.

"On the count of three, then. One, two, three…_LEGILIMENS!"_

Hermione felt waves of Snape's energy, like probing fingers, reaching toward her mind, but she remained completely detached. She calmly invoked a shield charm _("Protego!")_ and was suddenly bombarded with a whirl of unfamiliar images.

She saw a pale, skinny boy pointing his wand at a beetle and muttering the incantation to transfigure it into a button. Then she was peering over the shoulder of a greasy-haired teenager who was so intent on his exam paper that his nose was inches from the parchment. Abruptly, an adult Snape was feverishly but methodically working on what appeared to be a very complex potion in the dead of night. As these images flashed across her mind, she realised that she was getting more than just the physical aspects of his memories. She also felt a familiar sense of elation, as if she were the one making these incredible leaps in knowledge.

"Enough!" Snape, clearly unnerved by her response, broke the link.

Hermione felt a jumble of strong emotions; pride at having resisted Legilimency, that miraculous, soaring joy of discovery, and most surprisingly, a sense of complete sympathy. Here was something tangiblethat she shared with this brooding, isolated man: _he_ loved learning just as much as _she_ did.

Hermione smiled warmly at Snape, grateful for this increased understanding. The Professor did not respond, merely gesturing for her to return to her seat. It came as somewhat of a disappointment when the class spent the rest of the period taking notes about successful strategies that could be employed for Occlumency.

After class, Hermione waited for the other students to leave, then approached the Professor.

"Sir, may I have a moment?"

Without looking up from the stack of papers on his desk, Snape replied, "What is it that you want, Miss Granger? I have a full evening's work ahead of me, so be brief."

"I was curious, Sir. During this last demonstration, I was able to read more than just the visual images of your memories. I could sense-physically, I mean-things like room temperature, smells, time of day, and that sort of thing."

"Yes…?" Clearly, Snape wanted this conversation over as quickly as possible. Idly picking up his wand, he twirled it between the fingers of his right hand as he waited for her response.

"When Harry" (Snape's habitual scowl deepened at the mention of the name) "told me about his lessons with you during our fifth year, he only seemed to be aware of the bare bones of each memory. Nothing more than visual and aural input."

"And this surprises you, Miss Granger? Potter's inability to focus should be obvious to someone with whom he spends so much of his…_discretionary_ time. Don't disappoint me further by saying that you were unaware of Potter's lack of effort."

"You're saying, Professor, that if Harry had really applied himself, he could have sensed everything that I sensed? All of the smells, physical sensations, and emotions associated with each memory?"

Snape's head snapped up, his eyes riveted on Hermione's. "Emotions, Miss Granger? Am I to understand that you felt…" (a pause) "…that you sensed…" (another, longer pause) "…what precisely AM I to understand by this extraordinary pronouncement?"

Looking down at the desktop in confusion, Hermione didn't answer immediately. Had she truly shared in Snape's remembered emotions during those events, or was she merely embellishing his memories with her own feelings? And, if the former were true, why should this bother him so? Surely, if she could access this much information on her first attempt, it must be a fairly commonplace occurrence.

"As much as I enjoy the _suspense_, Miss Granger," the Professor sneered, "I would appreciate a reply sometime _today_."

Hermione, incapable of understanding his anger, raised her face to Snape's as if seeking an answer.

He was ready. Snape raised his wand and muttered _"Legilimens!"_ once again.

This time, the connection was immediate and intense, and not at all to Hermione's liking. She felt a rush of frustration as Snape probed her mind. Instead of memories, however, Snape seemed to be extracting pure emotion. All of the fear, pain and anguish she'd felt during his recent absence…every doubt she'd had, every sick feeling of anxiety came spiraling out, and she was powerless to stop it.

At last, feeling she could take no more, Hermione dropped to her knees with her hands in front of her, her palms turned out as if she were shielding herself from a physical attack. Snape broke the link, leaning back in his chair with a curious smile on his face.

"You…y-you…I…" Hermione stuttered weakly as she pulled herself up, leaning heavily against his desk. She took several deep breaths before continuing in a somewhat stronger voice, "That was uncalled for, Professor!"

"Oh no, Miss Granger, quite the contrary." Snape's black eyes glittered dangerously. "I found it very…_enlightening._ You are dismissed." Snape said, as he turned back to the papers he had been perusing earlier.

**Chapter Seven: Billywigs and Birthdays**

The following Sunday morning, Ginny sat on a pillow in front of Hermione's hearth, while Luna occupied Crookshanks' favorite plush chair. After several unsuccessful attempts at dislodging the intruder, the flat-faced cat sprung lightly onto her lap and purred while Luna brushed his thick orange coat.

Hermione conjured tea and ginger biscuits for her guests, then seated herself in the other battered armchair. She suspected this was more than a casual social call, but left it up to her friends to introduce their real reason for stopping in.

After a quick update on school gossip, Ginny broached the subject that was nearest and dearest to her heart.

"Hermione, be straight with me," the redhead prompted, "What do you _really_ think of my brother?"

"Ron?" _("Of _course_ she's talking about Ron, Granger! Honestly!"_ Hermione chided herself.) "Well, he and Harry are my dearest friends, of course. We've been through some pretty intense times together."

"Have you and Ron ever been, you know, more than just friends?" Ginny forged ahead, with a quick glance at the room's other human occupant. Luna continued stroking Crookshanks, although she was obviously hanging on every word.

"Heavens no, Ginny!" Hermione replied with a smile. "I could never feel that way about Ron. He's like a brother to me!"

"But _he _told me you two had a…an…understanding!" Luna chimed in. "He won't date _me_ because you'd think he was dumping _you_…"

Hermione realised she had some explaining to do. "Really, I don't know where to begin. When we were younger…MUCH younger, mind you, it did seem like Ron and I might be a couple someday. I mean, we were both close friends of the famous Harry Potter, so maybe it made sense to think of us together. But there's nothing there for me. Apart from friendship, I mean."

"He fancies you, though!" Luna maintained. Crookshanks, having put up with more than enough female chatter, hopped to the floor and sauntered off in search of a shoelace to attack.

"Ron no more fancies me than he fancies Harry, Luna. He's just accustomed to thinking we belong together. I'd hoped he would have moved on by now, but apparently he's got more than his fair share of Gryffindor loyalty."

"So you really, truly have no romantic feelings for him, Hermione?" Ginny persisted, "You don't mind if he pursues other relationships?"

"Don't get me wrong…I love Ron. I really do. I just don't love him in that way." Hermione shot a quick wink at Luna. "I think we should leave that to someone more suitable."

"Right, then!" Ginny settled happily into scheming mode. "Let's get to work. How do we force my brother to take his _head_ out of his _arse_ and face the simple truth?"

"GINNY!" Luna and Hermione gasped, before the three friends collapsed into a giggling heap on the hearthrug.

Most of that week passed without incident, although Luna abruptly ceased her mealtime visits to the Gryffindor table. She and Ginny were inseparable, spending their free hours calling on the other Houses. Wherever they went, they always seemed to be at the centre of a large, boisterous group.

Hermione and Ron happened to pass the Hufflepuff table just as a torrent of laughter escaped the lips of the assembled fourth, fifth and sixth year students.

"No…_REALLY_!" Slytherin Kerry Kennelly managed to choke out between giggles. "I swear on Merlin's knickers, I _saw_ her do it!"

Several of the Hufflepuffs looked at Luna with newfound respect.

"Weren't you afraid of getting stung?" ventured Owen Cauldwell. "I've never even TOUCHED one, let alone…_errrgh_!"

Luna's light blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Are you kidding? Dad and I spent one whole summer tracking billywigs in the Outback. As long as you watch where you grab them…" (here, she mimed plucking something small out of the air) "…it's a piece of cake!" Owen shivered theatrically as the group burst into fresh laughter.

Ron shot a questioning glance at Hermione, who shrugged and smiled back.

"Since when is _she_…" Ron jabbed a finger at Luna, "…the Great White Hunter, anyhow?"

"Hun-_tress_, Ron." Hermione corrected. "And despite you being too thick to notice, Luna's got a lot going for her. I don't know anyone else who's traveled as extensively. Just last week I overheard her telling Graham Pritchard…"

"That Slytherin SLIMEBALL?" Ron muttered.

Hermione pinched him, none-too-gently, on the forearm. "Hush! Honestly! You really do act like a first-year sometimes! As I was saying, Luna told Graham that she and her Dad have plans to spend this July on Crete exploring pre-Minoan ruins. I'm so jealous…I bet she learns tons of fascinating things!"

Ron cast a sullen look at the still-chattering group, grumbling something incoherent as he and Hermione made for the exit.

Friday was a bit of a milestone for Hermione, though her busy schedule barely allowed time to acknowledge the fact. Thoughtful as ever, Neville caught up with her in the hallway and slipped her a hand-made card.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" he whispered as they settled in for their last class of the day. Though she knew she was tempting fate, Hermione couldn't resist the urge to look at her card before Snape began his lecture.

Neville had drawn a lively cartoon of the seventh-year Gryffindors' familiars seated around a festively decorated table. Harry's snowy owl Hedwig, Ron's tiny owl Pigwidgeon, and even Trevor, Neville's infamous toad, all looked happily at Crookshanks as he raised his glass in a toast. The creatures then croaked, meowed and hooted a badly-out-of-tune rendition of "Happy Birthday."

"And what have we here?" Snape's silky baritone cut in, making Hermione jump. The Professor had glided up behind her as she watched the card's performance.

"I must admit," Snape continued in an amused tone, "I had hoped our Star Pupil would recognise the importance of keeping her private affairs out of this classroom. Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

Hermione's smile faded as she made to hide the offending card in her bookbag.

"Ah, no no no, Miss Granger! Where are your manners?" Snape continued, smirking unpleasantly. "Surely you won't deny your classmates the pleasureof sharing your little prize?" He held out his hand. "Give it to me. Now."

Hermione was heartily tired of Snape's bullying. It was bad enough that he picked on her for being smarter than his precious Slytherins, but to humiliate her just because poor Neville had been the only one to remember her birthday…?

"_No,"_ she thought. _"This time he's gone too far."_ Defiantly stuffing the card into the bottom of her bag, she glared back at Snape.

"What's this? Did you not hear me, Miss Granger?" Snape lowered his voice menacingly. "Hand it over this instant, or you will find yourself serving a remarkably unpleasant detention."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said NO. Sir."

"No, Miss Granger?"

"No. Definitely NOT, Professor. I will NOT give you my birthday card."

Snape stalked to the front of the room. "I am through wasting my time, Miss Granger. You will see me after class to arrange for your detention. Believe me when I say that you will most definitely come to regret your insolence."

Hermione glanced quickly at Neville, who looked absolutely mortified. She gave him a slight smile, hoping to reassure him that this was in no way his fault.

**Chapter Eight: Coming of Age **

Though generally not one to complain, Hermione found herself approaching Professor Snape's detention in a distinctly sour mood.

"Couldn't have asked for a jollier way to spend my seventeenth birthday!" she muttered as she walked to Snape's office. "Spending quality time with that greasy bastard in his wretched dungeon, probably scraping mildew off a snotty-nosed Slytherin brat's collection of dung beetle carcasses."

At precisely seven o'clock, Hermione knocked on the door to Snape's private office.

"Enter."

Snape was seated, reading a long scroll of parchment. Without looking up, he gestured to one of the two straight-backed chairs in front of his desk. Hermione took a seat, but remained poised on the edge of the chair with her hands clasped neatly in her lap.

Snape continued to read for some minutes. _"He wants me to know who's boss,"_ Hermione mused. This did not faze her in the least. She kept her attention fixed on the Professor and waited composedly for him to acknowledge her presence.

Finally, he set the parchment aside and leaned forward in his chair.

"Miss Granger," he began, "I said that tonight's detention would be particularly…memorable." He let his voice linger over the last syllables, drawing them out in an almost sensual way. "You will find that I am, if nothing else, a man of my word." Hermione wisely made no reply, and he continued.

"Since you appear to be especially adept at the study of Legilimency and Occlumency, Professor Dumbledore has given me permission to involve you in one of his pet projects."

"The Headmaster suspects that the art of Legilimency might be used to our advantage when interacting with the Dark Lord's forces. It is his wish that we explore this in greater depth. He asks that we analyse Legilimency scientifically, to determine exactly how the transfer of information between two minds can be manipulated and/or controlled." She nodded eagerly, and he continued.

"Before you let your willful Gryffindor nature carry you in over your head, I think it only fair to warn you, Miss Granger. This is no game. It is NOT…" Snape paused, "something to be trifled with. There are very real risks involved." When Hermione made no answer, Snape became impatient.

"Well?" he prompted. "What are your thoughts? Are you willing to proceed? I have no time for indecision, Miss Granger."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't like to interrupt." She looked straight into his eyes, then said, "I am willing to proceed."

Snape picked up his wand and gestured for Hermione to move to the centre of the room. He took up a position facing her, about six feet away.

"If we do this, you realise that you will see things that you may very much regret before we are finished…?"

"Yes, Sir. But…" Hermione faltered before continuing. "I don't know what is expected of me, Professor. What should I do?"

"Precisely what I _tell_ you to do, Miss Granger. Nothing more, and nothing less. Is that clear?"

"Very clear, Sir."

"And naturally, everything that happens in this office must be kept in the strictest confidence. Is that understood?"

"Certainly, Sir."

"Good. First, we will experiment with deliberate transmission. I will consciously attempt to send memories to you, and afterwards, you will record everything that you saw, heard, and felt." Hermione said she understood, and Snape continued.

"Clear your mind now. Present me with a blank slate–no emotions, no external distractions. I will then attempt to link with your mind."

Hermione quickly reviewed her Centreing Meditation. Once she felt completely impassive, she raised her head and nodded.

Without warning, Hermione was visited with a stream of unfamiliar memories. She observed a hook-nosed man berating a trembling woman, who cowered as he raised a hand, ready to strike. Off to one side, a tiny black-hair boy cried uncontrollably. Hermione wanted nothing more than to snatch the child away, but she despaired, realising she was powerless to do anything. She soon found herself weeping as openly as the little boy.

Abruptly the scene shifted. She was standing outside a circle of cloaked and hooded men, one of whom knelt before a central figure. A high, mocking voice rang out. "You would ask a boon of your Lord, would you, Severus?" The kneeling man raised his eyes to the other's face. As he did so, Hermione's perspective changed. Now SHE was the kneeling figure; it was Hermione who sought so desperately for an answer in those mad, merciless eyes. But no—she realised with absolute certainty that all hope was in vain. She (He? They?) had sought vindication, knowledge and strength, but had found only lies. The despair Hermione knew at this instant was far worse than any conceivable torture. Then, even as the high voice uttered _"Crucio!"_ and she felt the first stirrings of physical agony creep across her burning skin, she laughed at her own folly.

In a grey whirl, Hermione found herself deposited at her own desk in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. There was Malfoy, haughtily raising his wand as Professor Snape prepared to test the Slytherin seventh-year's Occlumency skills. This time, Hermione felt much more in control. She was herself, yet she was also Snape, as he existed in the memory. Curious about Snape's odd reaction during the initial encounter, she eagerly awaited the transfer of information from Malfoy. When it came, it hit her with the force of a tidal wave, and she felt utterly lost. For there was now absolutely no doubt that Draco would follow in his father's footsteps. Indeed, from the intense rush of hatred, sadism, and brutal self-absorption she could feel pulsing from the young man, she knew that he'd already played an active role in some of the Death Eater's activities. It was too late for him.

"Too late! Oh God!" Hermione was on her knees, hugging herself and rocking uncontrollably back and forth. "Too late! This is my fault. All my fault. I should have stopped him. Why didn't I? Oh god, oh GOD, why didn't I stop…why didn't I save him? Forgive me, Draco!"

Without knowing how she'd gotten there, Hermione found herself sitting once more in front of Snape's desk. She was wrapped in a scratchy grey blanket, which she was barely able to clutch in her trembling hands. Professor Snape, looking even paler than usual, paced back and forth on the other side of the room.

When he realised that Hermione's thoughts had returned to the present, Snape walked to the desk and leaned back against it, facing her. As if from a great distance, Hermione saw him drive one long-fingered hand through the curtain of black hair that shadowed his face. Several minutes crept by before either of them found their voice.

"Are you cold?" Snape finally asked. "Miss Granger, are you…will you be alright? Is there something I can get you?"

"No, Professor. Thank you." Hermione managed to choke out. It seemed strange to worry about making polite conversation, when only moments ago she had shared such agonising memories with him. She glanced up, but he had closed his eyes.

Hermione watched, fascinated, as a single tear ran down his cheek before disappearing into the black wool of his high-collared robe. Suddenly the urge to touch him…to _comfort_ him…was almost irresistible. Before she had the chance to act on this impulse, however, Snape spoke again.

"I must apologise, Miss Granger. Those were _not_ memories I would have chosen to share with you. I am at a loss to explain why those _particular_ episodes…" his voice faltered.

"I think I understand why you were so careful in your warnings earlier, Professor." Hermione replied in a strangely husky voice. Snape nodded, but did not speak. "This isn't the right time, of course, but I will do my best to follow your instructions. I will record everything, and we can…can analyse it later."

"Yes, Miss Granger," Snape replied, with a semblance of his usual grace, "you are correct. This is most certainly _not_ the time."

Though it was still quite early, Hermione went straight to her room. The other Gryffindors would probably want to celebrate her birthday in some small way, but she knew any attempts at conversation would only bring her to tears. As she sat on the edge of her bed braiding her mass of dark brown curls, she heard a timid knock at her door.

A very young-looking Harry Potter stood on her threshold, his right hand coyly hidden behind his back.

"Hermione," Harry said quietly, "I know you're probably feeling pretty wonky after serving detention, but I couldn't let your birthday go by without giving you this." He held out a small crimson-wrapped box.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione sobbed as she pulled him into a tight hug. He brought his arms around her waist, and let her cry as long as she needed to.

Finally, sniffling a little, Hermione stepped back, keeping her hands on Harry's shoulders and looking into his bright green eyes. "Thanks, Harry. For everything. I really love you." Harry smiled, brushed a stray teardrop off her cheek, then turned and walked back toward the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

In the privacy of her own room, Hermione unwrapped the box. A plain golden locket, small and heart-shaped, rested on a pillow of midnight blue velvet. Opening the locket, Hermione smiled as the images of Harry, Ron and herself grinned and waved back up at her. She recognised the picture; it had been taken just before Christmas during their first year at Hogwarts. Dropping heavily back on her bed, she fell asleep with her new locket clutched to her chest.

**Chapter Nine: Breakthrough**

An owl delivered all the thoughts, ideas, and study she had conducted on the memories to Severus snapes office sunday morning. The main conclusion being that the defualt mechanism appears to group memories of 'like' incidents (i.e memories that show similar emotional componets ) into a single transmission. If this is to be used as a tool we must learn how to bend it to our needs, how to control/select what memories and how much of them we transfer, based on a criteria of our own chosing.

Then later that evening, Hermione found a sealed scroll on her pillow. The seal yielded to a light tap of her wand, and she read a few lines written in a familiar, spiky hand:

_Granger, _

_Although i appreciate your enthusiasum, the nature of this project is to be kept secret. I hardly believe owl post is such. In light of things the headmaster has established a temporary floo connection from your privet chambers, to my office. Next time you feel the need to spout off knowledge please keep that in mind._

_Professor S. Snape_

Hermione checked the time; it was just shy of ten o'clock. _"A bit late, but surely he can spare me thirty minutes or so."_

She burrowed in the armoire for her small bag of floo powder, tossed a pinch of it into the fireplace, and stood back. With a roar, bright green flames shot up and Hermione stepped squarely in the centre.

"Snape's office!" she said, as the room began to spin.

Seconds later, she was standing on the cold hearthstones in Snape's dungeon, shaking bits of soot from her hair. Snape was, as she had expected, seated behind his desk.

"Ah, Miss Granger. I see you received my note." A drop of red ink quivered threateningly on the tip of his quill as he held it suspended above a piece of parchment. "Please, have a seat."

Hermione returned to the chair she had occupied during their session two nights earlier.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Professor."

"Nothing I can't continue at a later time. What is it that you wished to see me about?"

"Well, first I wanted to say I'm sorry about owling you. It didn't seem risky at the time, but I realise now, of course, that you're right. I was also hoping that we might review my findings."

"I have shared your report with the Headmaster, Miss Granger," Snape interjected. "We agree that your conclusion seems logical."

"Right. Well, maybe we could plan the next step in our experiment?"

Snape inclined his head slightly and gestured for her to proceed.

"I think it makes sense to focus on the specific trigger, then work our way outwards. For example, in our first test, I received only memories with a decidedly negative emotional association. One explanation for this might be your own state of mind at that time. When we established the connection…"

As she spoke, Snape's index finger began tracing lazy circles around his lips.

Hermione watched the skin at the corner of his mouth stretch taut in response to his finger's progress. _"He looks thirsty,"_ she thought, as her tongue darted out to moisten her own lips. Hermione caught a brief glimpse of crooked teeth as his lips parted slightly from the pressure of his finger. Then the finger stopped moving.

"You were saying, Miss Granger…?"

She blinked, then furrowed her brows. _"Saying?"_ she wondered. _"What was I saying?"_ (_FOCUS_, _Granger!)_ "Oh…oh yes…"

"Yes," (ahem!) "When we established the…the…connection between…"(Oh, there went that finger again, back up along his top lip…) "…that is, the…the…ummm…"

Hermione's attention was completely riveted on his finger…his lips…the way his mouth quirked up at the corner as if she'd said something funny…

She imagined herself rushing around the desk to him…and then _her_ lips would be mapped by that finger. Moving ever so slowly, his finger might catch on her lower lip, just where it was fullest. She would take his hand in her own…capture it…and pull that lovely long finger into her mouth. She imagined closing her lips around it, running her tongue along the nail, across the ridges of his fingertip…

"Miss Granger? Are you alright?" Snape's query quickly brought her back to reality, and Hermione prayed that her extended silence had not been too obvious.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I was just…thinking." Hermione blushed. To cover her embarrassment, Hermione proposed another attempt at the conscious send link.

"You are not too tired, Miss Granger?"

"No, Sir. I'm fine. Not tired." Hermione paused. "But if you don't mind, I would rather send this time." She was certainly in no frame of mind to witness another string of horrible memories just now.

"Understood. Shall we?" Snape moved gracefully into the centre of the room and gestured for Hermione to join him.

Hermione suddenly realised that she had not decided on an image to send. Something safe, she thought. Something non-threatening. She remembered the summer she had visited her former boyfriend in his home village of Sopot, Bulgaria. That was it…perfect.

She looked at her Professor, who closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and nodded for her to proceed.

Hermione concentrated on her memory while focusing outwards, almost as if she were pushing a photograph across a table for him to see. She thought of Viktor, of sore calf muscles, and the all-pervasive smell of roses.

"You haff only a short vay to go now, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor called to her from the top of a ridge. "Can you not smell the roses already?"

"Coming, Viktor!" Hermione puffed with as much breath as she could spare. "Blast these short legs of mine, anyway…" Hermione muttered. She managed to reach the top of the ridge, and stared down at an amazing sea of pink, white and lavender blossoms spread out below her.

Viktor's usually stern profile was softened by a slight breeze that ruffled his hair. "This is called the Valley of the Roses, Herm-own-ninny." Viktor's love for his native land was infectious, and Hermione smiled, drinking in the fragrance of hundreds of thousands of roses.

"You are so beautiful, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor continued, bringing his hand to cup her cheek. She blushed, but did not look away. He lowered his face to hers, and…

The mountain, roses and Viktor all vanished suddenly, replaced instead by a very dark Hogwarts Library.

She remembered the feel of knuckles brushing lightly along the column of her throat…the delicious whisper of hot breath at the back of her neck…the texture of rough skin tickling her nose…and a man's voice…

"Close your eyes. You have my word, I will never hurt you."

…then that feeling of warmth and security as his arms surrounded her, pulling her into a strong embrace. Never had she felt so loved, so cherished…

The vision changed. A brightly lit office, a conversation interrupted by persistent thoughts of a long, thin finger tracing her mouth…then her lips moving of their own accord, brushing lightly across his forehead before trailing down to taste his mouth…her trembling body pressing forward against his as she buried her hands in silky black hair…

"Ohh…!" Hermione felt a distinct snap and realised that she was standing across the room from her very shocked-looking Professor.

"Ohhh…oh God!" she said, biting her knuckles and running as fast as she could for the door.

**Chapter Ten: Success in Small Measures**

In a calmer moment, Hermione would undoubtedly have used the floo connection to return to her own chambers. Instead, in a blind panic, she could think of nothing but getting as far from Snape's dungeon as possible.

Along the cold stone corridor she ran…up one flight of steps, turning at the second stone gargoyle, then up more stairs…and more…and more…Hermione lost all sense of how high she was climbing in her desperate flight. Finally, with trembling legs and a burning feeling in her lungs, she found herself at the very top of the Astronomy Tower.

"He _saw_ that! All of it!" Hugging herself to keep warm in the brisk autumn air, Hermione began to pace. "Oh my god…the look on his face! What must he think of me? And how can I ever…what can I _possibly_ say to him…? He'll ask me to resign from the project. No, he won't. He won't _ask_ me to resign, he'll just chuck me off it…I won't get a chance to explain, to apologise…"

Hermione laughed bitterly. "Explain _what_, fool? Explain why you just happened to have THAT on your mind? Apologise because what you _really_ wanted was to rush over to him and make it all REAL, forget the project, forget the rest of your education…just go throw yourself at a man who is TWICE your age? God, I want to crawl into a dark hole and die…"

An elderly school owl making a delivery wondered at the strange sight of a teenaged girl frantically pacing the roof of the Astronomy Tower.

"Hmm! I've seen some odd things over the years, but this is a first," the owl said to no one in particular. "Whhooo is that?" He briefly considered swooping in for a closer look, but realised the girl might have a good reason for wanting to be left alone.

Very early the next morning, Hermione sat with quill in hand, staring blankly at a piece of parchment. She'd cried quite a bit, slept just a little, and called herself every name in the book before she was calm enough to attempt this. After several false starts, she finally took a deep breath and wrote:

Professor S. Snape,

Please except my appologies for my actions last night. I hope to continue with this project, but will of course understand if this is no longer an option. You may rest assured that if im able to continue, i will conduct myself in an appropriate manner at all times

-Hermione Granger

She made her way to the Owlery just as the sun came up. While Professor Snape had told her to use their floo connection for project-related communications, there was nothing confidential in her note to warrant concern. Besides, Hermione was strongly motivated to avoid any sort of contact with her stern professor this morning. As the owl (who, as it happened, was the same elderly fellow that had flown past her the night before) took off for Snape's quarters, Hermione sighed and made her way slowly down to breakfast.

Her friends were a bit concerned about Hermione that day. She was being very quiet, and had dark circles under her normally sparkling hazel eyes. Since she did not seem inclined to talk about it, however, they wisely left her to herself, with only the occasional pat on the back or quick hug to let her know they cared.

The next time she saw Snape was in Wednesday's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He behaved much as he always had toward her, neither singling her out for praise nor being overly critical. He was detached and professional, and after her initial fear subsided, Hermione began to find herself much intrigued by the topic at hand.

Only when he handed back their assignments at the end of the period did she begin to feel uncomfortable. There, between her first and second roll of parchment, was a note hastily scribbled in his familiar script was a brief paragraph telling her to report to his office at 7'o'clock tonight.

Precisely at seven, Hermione once again tossed a pinch of floo powder into her hearth and passed through the emerald green flames into Snape's private office. He stood leaning against his desk, arms folded, with a neutral expression on his face as she brushed the soot and ash from her school uniform.

"Miss Granger."

"Good evening, Professor Snape."

"Please have a seat, Miss Granger." Snape walked back to his usual position behind his desk, but waited until Hermione was seated before settling into his own chair.

"Professor, I am _so_ sorry…" Hermione rushed to get the words out. Snape however, raised one hand to silence her. He spoke very softly.

"Miss Granger. I did not ask you here for an apology." Hermione, afraid to look up, nervously pleated and unpleated the folds in the grey wool skirt of her Hogwarts uniform.

"It became clear to me after…" (he paused) "our last attempt, that the first priority of this effort must be control."

Hermione gave him a quick glance as he continued. "Each time we establish a link, there must be a clear objective. From my own observations at our last meeting, it seems evident that short, verbally oriented transmissions might be of the most use. I would suggest we concentrate our efforts in that area for the time being."

"Do you mean," Hermione interjected, "something like directions or commands, Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. Something with a clear and immediate application. This sort of transmission would have several advantages. First, shorter, more concrete ideas should be easier to send. Also, in a battle situation, this would be more useful than, for example, the transfer of a memory. And, on a more practical note, it should be easy to determine whether or not a specific send transmission was successful."

"That does seem logical, Professor." Hermione said gratefully. It appeared that he was willing to allow her continued participation, despite Sunday night's incident. It also struck her that he'd found a way to proceed with little risk of another embarrassing episode.

By the end of the evening, they had made significant progress on this modified link. Hermione could consistently interpret and respond to Professor Snape's mental commands (for example, "_Catch!_" when he banished a textbook in her direction, or "_Walk to the door_").

For his part, Snape tidied up his appearance ("_Your collar is crooked_") and smiled at her jokes ("_Too bad I couldn't do this with Neville in Potions class_," and "_I'd better watch what I'm thinking when you assign homework!_").

The remainder of September and most of October passed in relative peace between the two. Work on the project proceeded at a good pace, and a great deal of mutual respect seemed to be developing between the know-it-all Gryffindor and her sardonic professor.

**Chapter Eleven: A Visitor on All Hallow's Eve **

The Great Hall had been decorated with flocks of live bats and grinning jack o'lanterns for Halloween. Peeves the poltergeist had arranged a distinctive surprise for the occasion-the free-floating candles that lit the House tables were tilted sideways instead of vertically (as was their custom). This limited the available seating at dinner, since any person unlucky enough to sit beneath one would instantly be "baptised" with some very hot wax.

Darting between streams of liquid wax, Ron approached the Gryffindor table with a wide smile firmly in place.

"Oh happy, HAPPY day!" he shouted, turning heads from every corner of the room. "Someone pinch me…I must be dreaming!"

Harry couldn't help grinning as his best friend heaped food on his plate. "Any chance you'll tell us why you're so chipper all of a sudden, then?"

"Meh foyz gnna trnsfrr t'dmstrnnn!" Ron mumbled, his mouth full of mashed potato. The confused and disgusted looks his friends gave him convinced Ron that, One: they had not understood him, and Two: he should try swallowing before he repeated himself.

"I SAID, Malfoy's gonna transfer to DURMSTRANG!" he said, a little too loudly. Several Slytherins turned toward him with rather unpleasant looks on their faces.

"Nonsense, Ron!" Hermione scolded. "That's just ridiculous! We're already well into our seventh year. Why would he make a change now?"

"Dunno." Ron replied indifferently. "Just heard his father talking to the giant bat out in the hallway." Ron shrugged his shoulders and tucked into a slice of roast beef.

"Maybe you misunderstood him?" Hermione persisted.

Ron drew himself up regally, sneer firmly in place, with one hand clasped to the collar of his school robe. "Draaay-co has learned all that he can from this…establishment, Sevvverusss…" he drawled in a fairly good imitation of Lucius Malfoy's cold voice. "His mutha and I have decided to enroll him at Durrrmstrang for the remainder of his studies." Neville, Harry and Dean all burst into laughter while "high fives" were traded between the senior Gryffindor boys.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish!" Dean shouted.

"Hear, hear!" Harry and Neville cheered.

Hermione, however, did not see this development as good news. Having seen Snape's memory of his Legilimency exchange with young Malfoy, she was very apprehensive about his father's motivation. After all, there were rumours that Durmstrang focused more heavily on the Dark Arts than any other school in Europe. Unpleasant as he was, Hermione suspected that the worst of Draco's proclivities might be somewhat tempered by the presence of wizards like Dumbledore.

"Speak of the devil…" Ron said as they watched Lucius Malfoy saunter toward the Head Table. Draco, who had been following his father, stopped to glare at a small group of girls who were chattering happily in a nearby corner. Hermione had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she recognised Ginny, Luna and Kerry among them.

Though she was too far away to hear any part of the conversation, Hermione saw Lucius stop, turn and walk back toward Draco and the girls. With a cold look in his eyes, Lucius said something to Kerry, who glanced quickly at Ginny before turning back to Malfoy with a scowl. Kerry, Ginny and Luna then linked arms and pushed past both of the Malfoys, heads held high as they walked to the Gryffindor table.

Lucius followed the three girls with his eyes, then turned back to Draco with one eyebrow raised. Draco jerked his head up in a quick acknowledgement before joining his Slytherin peers for one last feast at Hogwarts.

"Ooooh, Kerry," Luna said nervously as they sat down. "I don't think you made yourself too popular with your Housemates back there."

"Who cares what _they_ think?" Kerry sniffed. "I've found my real friends right here." Hermione smiled at Kerry, but couldn't help noticing a faint hint of fear in her eyes as she looked back toward the Slytherin table.

Ginny reached across Kerry's shoulder and hugged her quickly. "Atta girl, Kerry! The Wild Women have got to stick together!"

Ron choked on his pumpkin juice. "You…_what_…women?"

"WILD Women, Ron! That's what we've decided to call our little group."

"Wild and wicked!" Kerry chimed in.

"Wild and WONDERFUL!" Luna added.

"And _WACKO_!" Ron rolled his eyes, but patted Luna's hand affectionately.

It was just after curfew, and Hermione had finished her studies for the evening. She had turned back the duvet and was slipping into bed when she heard an urgent tapping at the door.

"Coming! Just a minute…" she said as she shrugged on her old flannel bathrobe.

She opened the door and found a very frightened-looking Ginny Weasley standing in the hall.

"Ginny? What is it? What's the matter?"

Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her along the corridor toward the main staircase. "No time to explain! Come on, I need your help!"

As they made their way up the stairs, Hermione wondered if she should summon Professor McGonagall or one of the other teachers. Whatever was happening, surely a staff member should be involved?

It was hard to make out in the semi-darkness, but Hermione thought she counted five figures slumped against the wall near the Library entrance.

"Here, shhh!" Ginny beckoned Hermione to the closest of the shadowy figures.

Hermione let out a small gasp as she recognised Kerry Kennelly's tiny frame. The girl was unconscious, and Hermione could see a trickle of blood making its way down her face from a deep cut on her forehead. Her left eye was swollen shut, and bruises in what looked like the shape of handprints encircled her throat.

"We have to get her to the hospital wing, Ginny!" Hermione said, "Some of these injuries look serious."

"Okay, but can we at least take a look at Neville first? He's just over here."

"Neville?" Hermione moved quickly to the next form, lying face down on the cold stone floor. His pulse was steady, but a large bloody lump swelled from the back of his head. Hermione was reluctant to turn him over, for fear of aggravating any other injuries he might have sustained. "Oh, Neville!" Hermione whispered as she started moving toward the remaining three figures.

"Who are they?" Hermione asked. "Are they injured?"

"No, don't worry about _them_," Ginny muttered as she conjured stretchers for Neville and Kerry. "It's just Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. I had to stun them, but they're not hurt or anything."

The two girls were able, with some difficulty, to direct the stretchers carrying their injured friends to the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione called as they maneuvered the stretchers through the door. "Out here!"

The school nurse bustled into the room wearing a very disapproving expression.

"What's all the commotion?" she fussed. "I have patients trying to rest and…OH MY GOODNESS! Quickly, quickly…over here!" Madam Pomfrey took control of Kerry's stretcher and transferred her quickly to a bed. She got Neville situated as well, then hurried back to examine Kerry's injuries.

"Miss Granger! Kindly floo Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape. Ask them to come to the hospital wing as soon as may be." After ascertaining that Kerry was in no immediate danger, Madam Pomfrey began examining the lump on Neville's skull.

Hermione hurried off to do as she was told. Within minutes, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were at Madam Pomfrey's side. Professor Snape arrived from the dungeons moments later, his long black robes billowing out behind him.

"What has happened?" McGonagall asked, looking at the two injured students before directing a searching glance at Ginny and Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey also looked at the two Gryffindor girls. "These injuries…" (gesturing to the bruises on Kerry's throat) "…these injuries were deliberate! If you know anything about this at all, I insist that you tell us!"

"It was Malfoy, Madam Pomfrey." Ginny said. "Kerry, Neville and I were leaving the Library just before curfew. I realised I'd left my quill behind. I told them to go ahead, I'd catch them up in a minute. When I got to the hall, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were there. Malfoy slapped Kerry hard, across her face. Then he started strangling her."

Snape's eyes narrowed in disgust as Ginny continued.

"Neville was trying to get to her, but Crabbe and Goyle held him back. I drew my wand and cast a stunning spell on Malfoy, but Crabbe and Goyle had started punching Neville. They knocked him down, and he hit his head. I stunned Crabbe, then Goyle. There was nobody else around, and I needed help, so I ran to Hermione's room."

Dumbledore's kindly eyes turned toward the injured students. "What needs to be done for them, Poppy? Can we be of any assistance?"

"No, I can handle things at this end." Pomfrey sighed. "You CAN, however, find the thugs that did this and see that they are expelled, at the very least. Albus, this sort of attack…"

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Poppy, Draco Malfoy is out of my control. His father is here now. They were planning to apparate back to Malfoy Manor tonight."

"But Professor, shouldn't we call in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or something?" Hermione said hurriedly. "Malfoy can't be allowed to get away with this…"

"Even if we were to call in the Ministry, Miss Granger," Snape interjected, "It is highly unlikely that Miss Kennelly would be willing to press charges."

Hermione and Ginny looked shocked, but Snape silenced their protests with a single glance.

"Slytherins abide by their own code of conduct. By turning in Mister Malfoy and his friends, she would be risking repercussions of a much more…serious…nature."

Madam Pomfrey, Hermione and Professor McGonagall were speechless. Ginny, however, was beside herself with fury.

"I don't believe it!" she raged. "I don't bloody BELIEVE it! These bastards can do as they please, attack someone just because they don't approve of her friends, and then just WALK AWAY? That's IT?"

Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore insisted on escorting Ginny and Hermione back to their rooms while Madam Pomfrey began the work of healing their classmates' injuries. Hermione watched as Professor Snape settled into a chair between Neville and Kerry's beds. Resting his elbow on the bedside table, Snape cradled his forehead in one elegant hand, closing his eyes with a sigh.

**Chapter Twelve: A Special Little Book**

On Saturday morning, Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna hurried over to the hospital wing as soon as breakfast was over. Hermione was surprised to see that Professor Snape was in the same position as when she'd left the night before.

"He must have spent the night in that chair!" Hermione whispered to the others. The thought of this eccentric guard dog watching over Kerry and the despised Longbottom struck her as odd, but she was grateful for his concern, nonetheless. Very slowly Hermione approached Snape, stopping within an inch of his black clad form.

The other students hung back. Though concerned over their injured friends, none of them wanted to risk getting within striking distance of their temperamental teacher.

In the morning light, Hermione could see fine lines criss-crossing Snape's pale face. The length of oily black hair draped over his forehead moved slightly, in time with his breathing. Hermione raised her left hand and touched his shoulder, hoping to wake him gently.

"Professor Snape? Sir?" she said in a muted voice.

He woke with a start. "Miss…ahh…hem…Miss Granger," he said, clearing his throat and shaking the hair back from his eyes. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna were surprised to hear what sounded like dry humor in his voice as he continued, "I'm afraid you've caught me out in a dereliction of my duties. Asleep on the job, as it were."

Hermione smiled, thinking that only two months ago, this sort of friendly exchange would have been impossible between them.

Professor Snape stood up stiffly and stretched before heading for the door.

"How are Kerry and Neville, Professor?" she asked, turning her attention back to the purpose of the visit.

"Ask them yourself, Miss Granger," he replied, nodding toward the invalids as he swept from the room.

"'Bout time you got around to us, Hermione!" Neville chided. He and Kerry were both awake and sitting up in their beds.

"God, I was so scared!" Ginny rushed to Kerry's side and grabbed the smaller girl's hand between her own. Luna drifted closer, while Harry and Ron walked around to Neville's bed.

"We're okay, Gin." Kerry reassured her. "I…I can't tell you how grateful I am…I mean, we are." She said, blushing. "Neville and I. You really came through for us. If you hadn't come back when you did…" Kerry looked down at her own hand, still clasped firmly between Ginny's.

"What started it all in the first place, though?" Harry asked.

Neville's voice shook as he replied. "Malfoy and his thugs were waiting outside the Library for Kerry. Seems his father didn't think much of a Slytherin witch making friends with…well, people like us."

"Not that it's any of his business, the slimy git!" Ron spat out.

Kerry spoke again. "Malfoy said he was going to…to teach me a lesson. About House pride." She looked away from the others as if ashamed.

"Oh, Kerry!" the three other girls cried at once.

"It's okay. I'm fine. And Professor Snape says Malfoy's gone, and Crabbe and Goyle have been expelled. So…so now everything's back to normal. Right, Neville?" Kerry smiled shyly at the boy in the next bed over.

Neville blushed, but smiled back at Kerry. Hermione thought she'd never seen a sweeter smile in her entire life.

As November passed into December, the students began making plans for Christmas. Ron, Ginny and Harry were going to the Burrow, and had pressed Hermione to join them. She refused, however. Thoughts of her mum's baked apples, of playing gin rummy in front of a roaring fire with her dad, and the lovely adventure stories her grandmother told all made Hermione nostalgic for Christmas at home.

Before she returned to London, Hermione was determined to carry out a secret mission. Having spent so much time with Professor Snape recently, she wanted to remember him in some small way for the holidays. So, while the students enjoyed their last Hogsmeade visit before Christmas break, Hermione scoured the local bookshop in search of a gift for her somber Professor.

"_Lucky for me,"_ Hermione thought, _"he's only just started teaching Defense. I'm sure to find something here for his library. I don't know what I'd do if he was still teaching Potions, since I'm sure he's got every book ever written on the subject!"_

In a shadowy corner furthest from the shop window, Hermione came across a selection of used books relating to the Dark Arts. "Hmmm…" Hermione muttered, "_Jinxes for the Jinxed_…? No, that's fairly common. _Self-Defensive Spellwork_? No, I can't imagine him needing that."

She was starting to get discouraged when she saw a very tattered-looking book in a deep blood red binding. The book was tiny; she could fit it into the palm of her hand. She did so, and felt an immediate and intense rush of magical energy flow through her fingers and up her arm.

"_Oh, my!"_ Hermione thought. _"__This__ is a special little book!"_ She turned it around to look at the spine, but the gold lettering was so worn that she couldn't make out a title. Very gently, since the book seemed brittle with age, she opened the cover. In a very ornate hand, she read: Mastering the lie: Occulemency as an arte form.

"Perfect!" Hermione rushed to the clerk to make her purchase, certain that this was one book Professor Snape could not already have in his collection.

The night before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to return the students to their homes for the holidays, Hermione ate her dinner at a breakneck pace. With a quick glance at the Head Table _("Good! He's talking to Professor Benson!"_), she dashed back to her own chambers. Book in hand, she tossed floo powder into the fireplace and stepped quickly through to Professor Snape's office.

The green glow of the floo connection provided the only light as Hermione ran across the room. She put her cheerfully wrapped package in the centre of Professor Snape's desk, rested a card on top, and returned quickly to the fireplace before the floo connection was lost.

**Chapter Thirteen: Christmas Eve **

"I know it's silly, Mum, but I still want to. _Please_?" Hermione cajoled, knowing her mum would give in to the little game she was playing. The Christmas Eve tradition of leaving mince pie and a glass of sherry for Santa, along with a carrot for Rudolph, was one that Hermione particularly enjoyed.

"Well," her mother replied with a knowing smile, "it's not as if your father's never had to eat mince pie on Christmas Eve before, is it, Love?" She patted her only child on the knee.

"S'long as he leaves the sherry for me!" Gran broke in firmly. "Bit of cream sherry'd go down nice before bed."

"And Hermione can have the carrot!" her father joined in.

The four of them laughed heartily, recalling the many Christmas traditions their family shared.

Hermione's mother and father exchanged a significant glance before pulling a large wrapped box from under the tree.

"Hermione, your father and I bought you something special this year. I know it's early, but would you open it now? I'd love to see you try it on."

Hermione took the gift from her mother and settled herself on the couch. The package sat heavily in her lap as she tore off the gold foil wrapping. As she removed the lid, her breath caught in her throat.

Very slowly, Hermione pushed aside sheets of folded tissue paper and traced one finger over her elegant new dress. The emerald green velvet fell into heavy folds as she lifted it from the box.

"Oh Mum! Dad!" Hermione said tearfully, "I've never seen anything so beautiful!"

"We thought the colour would accent your eyes, Love." Her father said, putting his arm around his wife's waist. "Why don't you go try it on?"

Hermione dashed up to her room. Pausing only briefly to pull her long hair up in a bow and fret about the state of her knickers (which seemed far too coarse to come into contact with this particular dress), she quickly changed from her jumper and jeans into the rich green velvet.

"Oh my!" she said, looking at herself in the mirror. "I didn't realise it was so…revealing!" The dress, while quite full in the calf-length skirt, was cinched tight through the waist. It was also much lower-cut than Hermione was accustomed to. With a few minor adjustments, she was able to make herself presentable and headed back downstairs.

"What a lovely young lady!" Gran said from her perch by the fireplace.

"Egads! What a beauty!" Hermione's father gave a parody of a wolf-whistle, whereupon Mrs. Granger playfully slapped his arm.

"You're going to make her self-conscious, you old fool!" she said affectionately.

Hermione, quite pleased with her appearance, turned around slowly, loving the feel of the dense fabric swishing around her legs.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"What an odd time for a visit!" Hermione said as she went to open the door.

Ginny and Ron Weasley stood on the front porch, dressed (entirely convincingly) in Muggle clothes.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione!" they said in unison.

"Ron! Ginny!" Hermione stepped back from the door and gestured for them to enter. "This is a real surprise. What brings you to London?"

"We, erm…" Ron stuttered, "…had a bit of shopping to do in Diagon Alley."

"Yeah, and we wanted to see if you'd like to come along." Ginny chimed in.

"It's a bit late for shopping, you two!" Hermione said with a smile, thinking of how typical it was for Ron to leave his shopping until the last minute. "Just let me check with my parents, okay? Half a sec…"

She returned to her parents and explained the nature of her friends' visit.

"I don't suppose I could just slip out with them for an hour or two, Mum?" Much as she hated to leave her family in the midst of Christmas eve, Hermione didn't want to insult Ginny and Ron by turning them away.

"Sure, Love. Have a good time with your friends. Just make sure you bundle up, and be home by nine o'clock, alright?"

Hermione hurried back to the hallway and told her friends that she'd run upstairs to change.

"We don't have time for that," Ron said, looking at his wristwatch. "Shops'll be closing soon!"

Hermione, resigned to being woefully over-dressed for a shopping trip, headed to the closet for her shoes and coat. It seemed a bit odd for Ron and Ginny to follow her so closely, but she shrugged it off.

"Hey, Hermione…" Ginny said with a wink at Ron. "Before we go, there's a little something we got for you." She pulled out a small box and held it out to Hermione.

"Um, thanks, Ginny. But you already gave me something…"

"Just take it!" Ron urged. "We're in a hurry!"

Hermione reached her hand out to take the box, and as she did so, Ron reached for it as well.

A malicious smile crossed Ron's freckled face as the familiar feel of a hook behind her navel jerked Hermione quickly forwards. She was lost in a swirl of colour and a wild vortex of sound as the portkey dragged all three of them along. When her feet finally hit solid ground, she struggled to get her bearings. Before she got a good look around, however, something struck her soundly on the head and she fell, unconscious, to the floor.

**Chapter Fourteen: Invitation to Malfoy Manor **

As she came to, Hermione felt rough stone pressing into her back and cold steel encircling her wrists. Her aching head lolled forward from the wall. As it seemed her captors were unaware of her return to consciousness, she decided to keep still and listen.

"The girl is useless to us dead, Lucius." A familiar silky voice was speaking through Hermione's haze of pain.

Much closer, the cold, arrogant drawl of Lucius Malfoy crept into Hermione's consciousness with the promise of horrors to come. "Oh, I don't know, Severus…" Hermione felt a gloved hand trace languidly along her jawbone. "The Dark Lord might be…impressed with the gesture. After all, isn't this piece of filth one of Potter's little…_playmates_?" He managed to make the word sound disgusting.

"Does she give good sport?" Bellatrix Lestrange's hysterical laughter rang out across the cold stone walls. "Maybe you just want to keep the little mudblood for yourself, eh, Snape?"

Draco Malfoy's petulant tenor was added to the mix. "I brought her, Father. I think I should get some fun out of this!" Though his words seemed bold, Hermione thought she heard an underlying current of fear in his voice.

"Patience, Draco. Patience. We have much to decide." Lucius reached his gloved hand under Hermione's chin and brought her face up. Her eyes snapped open, and she recoiled at the proximity of her tormentor.

"Ahh, I see our Miss Granger has decided to rejoin us." Malfoy breathed into her face, sickening Hermione with the scent of stale liquor and tobacco.

"You need to be a bit more…discerning in your choice of friends, my dear." He gestured to Draco and Pansy Parkinson, who sat smugly together, eagerly watching their classmate's suffering. "It was far too easy for my son and Miss Parkinson to lead you astray."

Hermione looked at Draco and Malfoy's Muggle clothing, acknowledging her own gullibility. They'd used polyjuice potion! Oh, why hadn't she listened to her inner voice, warning her that something was out of place about Ron and Ginny's visit?

Lucius Malfoy was speaking again. "Ah, what a _delightful_ gown! It really is quite…" Malfoy's cold glance traveled down to pause at her breasts. "…enticing."

Malfoy stroked Hermione's neck with one gloved hand. In the other, his long ebony cane was tracing down the side of her new green dress. The silver head of the cane was shaped like a serpent, with open mouth, fangs bared, and a slender silver tongue lashing out in a silent hiss. The snake's fangs caught on the velvet of Hermione's dress, and Malfoy smiled cruelly as he felt the pulse jump in her throat.

"I'm _bored_!" interrupted Draco, looking sulky. "You _said_ I could have a go. When is it going to be my turn?"

Bella Lestrange glared at the younger Malfoy with obvious scorn. "Can't you keep your brat quiet, Lucius? Maybe I could teach him to respect his elders…" She stalked toward Draco with a menacing smile.

Draco cowered, looking nervously at Bella, but said nothing.

Snape spoke again. "If we place the girl under the Imperius Curse, she could be very useful, given her relationship with Potter."

"We are wasting time!" Bella's harsh voice rang out. "Let me bring the girl to the Dark Lord!"

"What, and have you take credit for her capture?" Lucius laughed. "Do I look like a fool, Bella?"

The elder Malfoy appeared to have reached a decision. He gestured for his son, who approached him warily.

"Very well, Draco. You may play while we decide what is to be done." He stepped away. "Just be sure to do no lasting damage. Not yet, at any rate."

Draco took up his father's former position, a sneer fixed on his pointed face.

"Draco," Hermione whispered, "Draco, you don't want to do this."

Draco slapped her hard across the mouth. "Quiet, mudblood! I'm doing the talking here. Now that I'm out of that _pathetic_ excuse for a school, I've been learning some really _useful_ skills. Care for a demonstration?"

Hermione glared at her former schoolmate, but kept her mouth shut.

Draco raised his wand. The cold smile on his face was an exact copy of the one Hermione had seen on his father's. _"Crucio!"_

Hermione's screams echoed endlessly around the dungeon. Her skin was on fire, every nerve…every muscle jumped and throbbed in unbearable agony for what seemed like an eternity. Somewhere behind it all, her mind pleaded for death and oblivion…anything…_anything_ to end this excruciating pain.

When he finally lifted the curse, Draco stood staring with wide, excited eyes at Hermione. His breath was coming in short gasps, and a faint sheen of sweat covered his pale forehead.

"That was fun. Let's have another go, shall we?"

As Draco raised his wand again, Hermione suddenly became aware of a familiar image being brought to the forefront of her mind. A book…a large blue book. Her brain befuddled with pain, she desperately tried to remember what this might mean. From some part of her mind that did not seem to be her own, an answer came:_ "Open it and find out!"_ Ignoring the cold dungeon wall and Draco's gloating smile, Hermione focused her whole consciousness on opening the book. Suddenly, a familiar, silky voice spoke clearly in her mind.

"_There is a piece of parchment near your left foot. Touch it."_

Hope entered Hermione's heart at that moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just make out the dirty scrap of paper. And although she could not quite reach it without drawing attention to her actions, the fact that she had something constructive to do gave her renewed strength.

"Now, now, Draco. Play nicely." Lucius' smooth voice approached once more. "We don't want to damage our toy, do we?" Cane in hand, Lucius Malfoy brushed his son aside and came back to leer over Hermione once again.

"My son does not yet understand how to…" Again, Lucius' cold eyes traveled down Hermione's figure. "…_appreciate_ a woman, Miss Granger." His leather clad hand insinuated itself between Hermione's thighs, thrusting them roughly apart. "I, however, am another story entirely."

Using the handle of his cane, Malfoy slowly drew the skirt of Hermione's dress up until her plain cotton knickers were visible.

Hermione closed her eyes, her mind working feverishly_. "Focus on the paper. Your foot is a lot closer now…focus…FOCUS…" _She inched her left foot ever so slightly outward, hoping to make contact with the piece of parchment.

Malfoy must have noticed her movement. His voice went down a notch or two as he purred into her ear, "Mmmmm! So…responsive. Very nice, Miss Granger. Very nice indeed." The head of his cane began tracing cold circles on her inner thigh, working slowly closer and closer to the edge of her knickers.

With a final, desperate effort, Hermione managed to touch the crumpled piece of parchment with her little toe. This was all it took for the portkey to activate and drag her through a vortex of wild colour and rushing wind, away from danger and the shocked expression on Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic face.

Hermione's feet slammed into the ground as the portkey detached itself. She was in a darkened room stacked from floor to ceiling with packing crates. Picking up the used portkey and crushing it in her fist, Hermione crept toward the crack of light coming from under the room's only door.

As she drew near, the door in question opened and the shaggy head of the Hog's Head barkeep peered around the edge.

"Ehh? Woss goin' on in 'ere?" the elderly man's voice trembled slightly, as if unnerved by the noises she'd made upon arrival.

Hermione heard a small click, then a single bulb suspended from the ceiling glowed dimly, fighting against its thick coating of dust and grease. The filth and disorder of this room confirmed Hermione's suspicion that she was, indeed, at the Hog's Head tavern in Hogsmeade.

Hermione spoke up. "Sorry! I just got here through a…a portkey. I need to get b-back to Hogwarts." As she said this, the adrenaline that had kept her going over the past few hours failed her. She wobbled on her feet and grasped at one of the packing crates to steady herself.

"'Ere, lass! Sitchee down." The barkeep guided Hermione to one of the smaller crates and pushed her gently into a sitting position. "I'll fetchee a spot of summat. You just bide a while, there's a girl!" He smiled, showing an astonishing array of broken, twisted, and greenish teeth.

In a few minutes the barkeep returned, followed by a familiar (and welcome) figure. As the barkeep pushed a grimy mug full of a steaming liquid into Hermione's icy hands, Remus Lupin stared at her, his lined face full of concern. Hermione gazed absently into the mug for a moment, then set it down.

Remus thanked the barkeep, then asked for some time alone with Hermione. After a quick nod at the frightened girl, the barkeep took his leave and returned to the front of the pub.

"Hermione," Remus said in a voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here? Dumbledore said you'd all gone home for the holidays."

"Oh…oh God!" Hermione's voice broke. Remus stepped fully into the room, pulling Hermione into a gentle embrace. Saying nothing, he stroked the back of her hair soothingly until she found the strength to speak.

In a trembling voice, Hermione described everything that had happened to her, starting with the arrival of "Ron" and "Ginny" at her parents' home, and ending with her abrupt return to the Hog's Head. When she'd finished, Remus gave her his heavy woolen cloak and transfigured a pair of shoes for her. They walked together out of the pub, through the silent town, and up the long winding drive back to Hogwarts castle.

**Chapter Fifteen: Healing**

In her bed at the hospital wing, Hermione was visited by a series of seemingly random thoughts. First, she thought of the beautiful dress her parents had given her, in what seemed a different lifetime. She loved that dress; it was as if, by giving it to her, Hermione's parents acknowledged her evolution from child into adult. _"And now I will never wear it again,"_ she thought mournfully.

She recalled the image of a large blue book, followed by the calming, familiar voice that offered much-needed hope just when she'd thought she was lost_. "Another step forward in the study of Legilimency,"_ she mused, mentally congratulating Professor Snape on his idea of using a familiar book as the "key" to unlocking their shared thoughts.

Hermione then thought of Lupin's kindness at the Hog's Head and again at the castle. Rushing her straight to the hospital wing, he had fussed so much over her comfort and peace of mind that Madam Pomfrey had good-naturedly shooed him away. Saying he'd check back after finishing his watch at the Hog's Head, Lupin patted Hermione's knee and hurried off to make his report to Dumbledore.

The Headmaster, accompanied by Professor McGonagall, called on Hermione soon afterwards. They were both exceedingly grave. McGonagall inquired repeatedly over Hermione's well being, while Dumbledore was strangely silent. Professor McGonagall, at last convinced that everything possible was being done for Hermione, bustled out of the room, leaving Hermione staring into the sad blue eyes of the Headmaster.

"Miss Granger…Hermione…" Dumbledore began, taking one of her small hands in his own, "I cannot imagine what you are going through." He looked away, tears shining in his eyes, as he continued. "I can only say how deeply sorry I am. If there is anything I can do…"

Hermione hadn't really cried since the start of her ordeal. Suddenly the floodgates opened and she found herself clutching desperately at that elderly hand, rocking back and forth, and sobbing as if her heart would break. Dumbledore sat with Hermione while she cried, talked, sat silently, then cried again in a seemingly endless cycle. Finally, drained of everything but a pressing need for sleep, Hermione collapsed back onto her pillow.

Like a parent, Dumbledore brought the blankets up under her chin and tucked her in for the night. He bent low, whispered "Goodnight, Hermione. Sleep well," then gently kissed her forehead as she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Very much later, Hermione became aware of subtle movements in the still-dark hospital wing.

"_Madam Pomfrey fiddling about, I suppose,"_ she thought.

But no, the figure moving in the shadows walked silently. Madam Pomfrey was always in too much of a hurry to be concerned about stealth. Hermione also sensed a very masculine energy from the late-night visitor. The smell of spice and old books came wafting over as the figure turned with a very soft "swish!" of his robes. He was…_pacing_. At once, Hermione knew the identity of her mysterious visitor.

"Professor?" Hermione said quietly. "Is that you?"

The figure approached, moonlight from the high window illuminating the sleek black hair and hooked nose that had become so familiar to Hermione in recent months.

"Miss Granger. I did not realise you were awake," Professor Snape replied in a mellifluous whisper. He stopped at the foot of her bed, wearing a troubled look.

"Professor, I…" Hermione suddenly found herself shy. "I…umm…that is, thank you."

He waved one long-fingered hand dismissively. "Please, Miss Granger. I wish…" (he paused) "I wish I had been able to prevent the incident entirely."

Hermione didn't know what to say to this. Surely he couldn't blame himself for Malfoy and Parkinson, could he? She decided to approach the conversation from a new angle.

"You did a wonderful job with the portkey, Sir." Hermione reached under her pillow and retrieved the crumpled bit of parchment. "I kept it with me, because I didn't think leaving it lying around would be such a good idea."

Snape extended his hand. "Yes, it would have caused certain…complications had they been able to trace it back to me, Miss Granger. Thank you."

Hermione's own trembling fingertips brushed lightly against the palm of his hand as she returned the parchment. The touch, to Hermione so electric, also seemed to surprise her Professor. He raised one black eyebrow and looked as if he wanted to ask a question.

Shaking his head very slightly, he abruptly inquired after her parents. Hermione answered him, not quite knowing what she was saying.

A few silent moments passed before Professor Snape spoke again. "Thank you for the book, Miss Granger." Hermione smiled shyly up at him.

"I must admit to being a little baffled by its sudden appearance." (_"You dolt!"_ Hermione berated herself. _"Breaking into his office…"_)

"However, I can honestly say that I have rarely been more surprised, or pleased, with any gift." At this point, his thin face broke into what was unmistakably a wicked grin.

"What?" Hermione was surprised into rudeness by the twinkle in his eyes. "What did I do? Is there something…funny…about that book?"

"Did you consider the author's name at all, Miss Granger?"

Hermione just stared blankly at him.

"Here, I will write it down. Study it, and see if you can trace the source of my…amusement." Snape scribbled sixteen letters on a scrap of parchment and left it on Hermione's bedside table. He turned and headed for the door. "Get some sleep, Miss Granger. Good night."

"Good night Professor."

"_And thank you…"_ Hermione thought, _"…my love."_

Snape paused, glancing back at the girl in the bed. Hermione was looking down at the scrap of parchment, a sweet smile curving her lips. She obviously did not realise that he had "heard" her last thought and that, he decided, was best for all concerned.

Hermione woke with a tremendous appetite on Christmas morning. Luckily Madam Pomfrey arrived within minutes, bearing a delicious-looking breakfast on a tray.

"Happy Christmas, Miss Granger!" Poppy sang out as she lowered the tray onto Hermione's lap. "How's my patient this morning?"

"I feel fine, Madam Pomfrey." Hermione started spooning treacle onto her steaming bowl of porridge. "Fine, but _hungry_!"

Madam Pomfrey watched approvingly as Hermione ate. "Your family will be arriving soon. The Headmaster summoned them from London."

With a pang of guilt, Hermione realised that she'd neglected to contact her parents once she was safely back at Hogwarts. How frantic they must have been when she didn't come home!

"Don't fret now, Miss Granger. Everything is quite alright. Your parents were worried, naturally, but the Headmaster and Professor Snape called on them during the night. They've explained everything."

Hermione was grateful for the news, and settled in a bit more comfortably to eat a warm croissant loaded with strawberry jam.

The visit from her mother, father and gran was emotional in the extreme. They pressed her to tell them everything, but Hermione was very careful to downplay the horrors of the previous night. "What's done is done," she said finally. "It was bad, but now it's over. Professor Dumbledore and the others are taking good care of me."

Finally convinced that their daughter was alright, her family kissed her soundly and left the room. Dumbledore had arranged for their return to London without Hermione since it seemed, for the time being at least, that Hogwarts was the safest place for her.

Much to Hermione's chagrin, Madam Pomfrey insisted that she spend most of Christmas day in the hospital wing. Finally, in the late afternoon, Hermione was allowed to return to her own room to change for the Christmas feast. She had a long, hot shower and scrubbed her skin pink with a rough sponge. She then combed carefully through her thick hair, watching her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. _"I look older today, somehow,"_ she thought with a sigh.

Five minutes later, Hermione was curled up in front of a roaring fire, wearing her comfy old flannel bathrobe and sipping from a steaming cup of earl grey tea. She had laid out her best dress robes (rich burgundy with black satin trim), put on a touch of perfume, and was feeling very luxurious.

She pulled a scrap of parchment from the pocket of her bathrobe and stared at it. Snape had written sixteen letters last night and had left it as a puzzle for Hermione.

Z A L T H A R Y S I N A L E S R

"_Well, they don't make much sense in this order, anyway,"_ Hermione mused. She tried re-arranging them. It took her a full twenty minutes, but eventually the real significance of the author's name hit her with full force.

"_Oh my!"_ She had goosebumps and her heart was racing. _"It can't be, can it?"_ She knew, however, that not only _could_ it be, it most definitely _was_. So this was why Snape was so amused last night!

"Uh oh…" she said, glancing at the clock. "I need to get moving if I don't want to be late." She changed quickly and headed to the Christmas feast.

When she arrived in the Great Hall, Hermione found a very small group gathered around a single round table. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick were there, as were Madam Pomfrey and the school caretaker, Argus Filch. Apparently Hermione was the only student staying in the castle, and since Hagrid usually spent holidays with his brother, Grawp, she was not surprised at his absence.

All of the men present stood politely as Hermione approached the table, and Professor Dumbledore gestured to an empty chair between himself and Professor Snape.

Once they were all seated again, Dumbledore reached for a large golden cracker and handed the other end to Hermione. They pulled sharply, and with a loud "BANG!" the cracker exploded. An enormous pair of shocking pink fuzzy dice tumbled out, as did a very realistic-looking jeweled tiara. The Headmaster gleefully took the fuzzy dice, hanging them like a bizarre earring off his left ear. Hermione laughed, replacing her standard student's wizarding cap with the sparkling tiara.

"Ah, lovely! Magnificent! Glowing! Exquisite! Radiant!" Dumbledore pointed at Hermione. "Don't you think so, Severus?"

"Indeed, Headmaster." Snape's glittering black eyes surveyed the pair of them with undisguised amusement.

Just then, the golden platters and flagons on the table filled with turkey, ham, roast potatoes, glazed carrots, stuffing and gravy. As she loaded her plate with food, Hermione decided to tease her severe Professor a little.

"Come on, Professor Snape. You haven't done a Christmas cracker yet." Hermione picked a fat green metallic cracker from the bowl in front of her. "How about this one?"

Snape reluctantly took hold of one end, while Hermione tugged sharply at the other. With the sound of a small canon, the cracker flew apart, throwing a magnificent false beard (with mustache) and two twittering lovebirds onto the table.

"I think the beard would look _especially_ nice on you, Professor!" Hermione giggled as she handed it over. Snape glared back at her, but Dumbledore insisted that he try it on.

"Be a good sport, Severus…indulge the young lady! She wants to see you put it on. Don't you, Miss Granger?"

"Indeed I do, Headmaster! Indeed, I do…oooo…ooooo!" Hermione doubled over in uncontrollable laughter as Snape, wearing a look that would curdle fresh milk, donned the glossy black beard.

"You realise, of course, that this will inhibit my ability to eat anything," Snape muttered.

"Oh, you poor…POOR man!" Hermione managed to choke out. She watched him pick stray beard hairs out of his mouth before sipping carefully from his wineglass.

Remembering their late night conversation, Hermione decided to bring the subject back to something a bit more serious.

"So, you liked my gift?" Hermione asked, and Snape nodded. "It wasn't easy to track down, you know."

"I can well imagine, Miss Granger." Snape raised both of his eyebrows, apparently wondering where this conversation was leading.

"I think I worked out what you meant about the author, Professor. But honestly, how can that be?"

"You doubt he had the ability to write, Miss Granger?" Snape replied. "Or do you wonder at his motivation for doing so?"

"The latter, I suppose. After all, Salazar Slytherin was one of the founders of Hogwarts. Wasn't he busy enough with building the school, hiring teachers…that sort of thing?"

"Miss Granger," Snape replied with a thin smile, "you forget that life does continue after Hogwarts. Had you not heard that Salazar Slytherin left the school at some point?"

Hermione remembered Professor Binns' lecture on this topic from her second year. "Yes, of course. So, you're saying that Salazar Slytherin decided to become an author after leaving the school?"

"An author, as well as several other things. I have a book that details Slytherin's later career, Miss Granger. If you'd care to borrow it…?"

"Thank you, Professor!" Hermione said. "That would be fascinating!"

"I will lend it to you, Miss Granger, on one condition."

Hermione looked quizzically at her companion, wondering what on earth he could want.

"May I please remove this ridiculous…_thing_?" he pulled at the false beard, which snapped back up against his chin when he released it.

"Of course, Professor!" Hermione resisted the urge to giggle again, settling instead for a very broad smile.

Hermione and Professor Snape kept up a pleasant conversation for the remainder of the meal. She suddenly realised that nearly two hours had passed in this way, and that almost everyone else had left the table.

"Well, I think it's close to my bedtime, Professor," Hermione said as she rose. Snape stood up as well, stretching his long back with a sigh. They walked toward the exit together, until Hermione stopped suddenly and pointed to a spot above Snape's head.

Snape, however, did not look up. He was staring down at Hermione with a very melancholy look in his dark eyes.

"Mistletoe," Hermione said slowly. Without thinking, she stepped very close to him. Balancing on her tiptoes, she closed her eyes and brushed a gentle kiss on his lips. "Happy Christmas, Sir."

Snape drew back as Hermione opened her eyes.

"Miss Granger," he said in an uneven voice, "I don't…" he paused, furrowing his eyebrows. "That is, we can't…"

With a heavy sigh, Professor Snape found the words he was looking for. "Miss Granger, I am _not_ a nice man. Please remember that. Good night."

He swept from the room, leaving a very bewildered Hermione staring after him.

**Chapter Sixteen: Cross Purposes **

By the light of a single candle, Severus Snape paced the length of his bedroom floor. Pausing occasionally for a hasty swig from his tumbler of Fitzgerald's Redbreast, he revisited the events of the last few months.

Had it been a mistake to involve the girl in the Legilimency project? Dumbledore had suggested it, and even Snape would have been hard-pressed to find a better research assistant. The girl's empathic abilities and exceptional intelligence uniquely suited her to the task at hand.

"_But at what cost?"_ Snape's conscience nagged him_. "That first incident…when I saw into her fantasy…" _His memory took him back to the evening in September and his own sense of astonishment at her inadvertent revelation. Thoughts of his own reaction soon gave way, however, to a recollection of the girl's mortified flight from the room. Oh, how he had wanted to follow her then! To reassure her…to tell her that she had nothing to be ashamed of.

"_No, she has nothing to be ashamed of,"_ thought Snape, _"The only guilty party here is you."_ The smooth burn of the whiskey did nothing to distract him from his feelings of remorse.

In his lonely existence, concern for others had always given way to the practicalities of survival. There had been no time for compassion; compassion was for the weak. Why, then, did his thoughts so stubbornly return to the health and happiness of this girl? Why should he, a cold and solitary man, trouble himself over the welfare of one little Gryffindor? Over the course of many lonely nights, Snape had pondered the strangeness of his current situation.

Stranger still, however, was the firm conviction that he was already a better man because of his feelings for the girl. To be near her was to be connected to something larger than himself. She put up no barriers; there was no limit to her kindness.

Why then did he insist on pushing her away? Who could fault him for accepting the peace and comfort she so generously offered in her smiles, her words, and her thoughts?

The answer was as obvious as it was insurmountable. He was, as he had told her, not a nice man. The darkness that surrounded him-that _was_ him-could never deserve the gift of this girl's love.

So, when she turned to him for friendship, he must only respond with coldness. When she offered him her heart, he must reject it.

She could never know how deep his feelings ran. He would never tell her how close she had come to being his salvation…how close he had come to letting her love him.

The room's lone candle sputtered. It had burnt itself to a stub, and would soon surrender to the darkness. Resigned to sharing the same fate, Snape finished his whiskey and threw himself on the bed.

Five days had passed since they'd parted so abruptly after Christmas dinner, yet Hermione had not seen Professor Snape once. He was not coming to meals in the Great Hall, nor did he stalk around the drafty school corridors as was his wont. At dinner on Tuesday night, a very worried Hermione asked Dumbledore if Snape had been called away again.

"No, my dear," the Headmaster replied. "Severus is still with us. I believe he has taken to having his meals sent to his rooms."

"Oh! Is he ill, then?"

"He is well, Miss Granger." Dumbledore patted Hermione's hand comfortingly. "Severus often craves solitude. There are times when he does not leave his rooms for weeks on end."

"Doesn't that bother you, Professor?" Hermione persisted. "I mean, shouldn't someone go check on him?"

"Severus has been very clear about wanting to be left alone, and we have taken him at his word. He will be back soon enough, my dear. You have no cause to worry."

Hermione knew she wasn't going to get a more satisfying answer than that, so she dropped the subject. _"After all,"_ she thought, _"he's a grown man. He can take care of himself."_

But then she remembered the sadness in his eyes at their last encounter. She would have given much to see him now and understand what had driven him to this extremity of isolation.

In bed that night, Hermione was restless.

Their kiss under the mistletoe should have been a perfect moment. Like a fledgling bird leaving the nest, her instincts had told her what to do. And as strange as it sounded, being with this troubled man was natural. It was right. She felt such a strong bond with Snape; was it too much to hope that he felt something, too?

And, if he did, then why reject her? _"It must be me…"_ Hermione thought in despair, _"It _must_ be me…"_

The night dragged on, and still sleep eluded her. She tried distracting herself with a collection of poems by Walt Whitman, but found herself reading the same line again and again. Frustrated, she decided to write a letter to Professor Snape.

"Dear Professor…" she began, "we've missed you in the Great Hall." No, that was stupid. She crumpled the paper into a tight ball and threw it into the fire.

"Dear Professor Snape, could we please start back in on our Legilimency project?" No-she was _not_ going to turn into some pleading little idiot.

She gave up on the idea of reading and writing and returned to her bed. Her thoughts wandered aimlessly around Snape. Over and over, Hermione replayed their interactions in her memory. What was wrong? What had she done? How could she fix it?

The next day was one series of accidents after another. She ruined a perfectly good set of wool stockings by snagging them on the edge of her nightstand. She then tripped over Crookshanks on her way out the door, which resulted in a series of very deep scratch marks on her ankle. At lunch, she dropped a chunk of Stilton, then her knife, then upset a bowl of apples, which made a great show of bouncing off the stone floor and scattering all around the Great Hall. Professor Dumbledore seemed delighted with Hermione's newfound "skill" and asked if she'd been taking juggling lessons in her spare time.

The evening came, and with it, a firm resolution on Hermione's part. This endless worrying would drive her insane if she didn't act. After dinner, she decided that she would take advantage of their special floo connection and call on Snape in his private office. Even if he refused to talk to her, at least she would be able to see for herself that he was alright.

With grim determination, Hermione tossed a pinch of floo powder into her room's fireplace, stepped into the green flames, and said "Snape's office!" as she had done so many times before.

When she arrived, however, the room was dark and cold. If it hadn't been for the green flames of the floo connection, Hermione would have had no light at all. Raising her wand, Hermione cast the Lumos charm, and was able to find a door that led away from the outside corridor. _"His chambers must be back this way," _she reasoned, _"If I don't find him there, then I'll go tell Dumbledore."_

Hermione knocked lightly, then, when no answer came, opened the heavy door and entered what appeared to be a sitting room. The feeble light at the tip of her wand illuminated row after row of books on a wide variety of subjects. One severe-looking chair took pride of place in front of another cold hearth, and still, Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen.

Seeing another door at the far end of the room, Hermione made her way towards it, stopping once again to knock quietly. There were definite signs of life behind this door, however. Brisk footsteps approached, and Hermione barely had time to get out of the way before the door swung open sharply.

"I said I did not wish to be disturbed!" Snape's angry voice echoed off the stone walls. From the elevation of his gaze, Hermione surmised that he was expecting to find an errant house elf instead of a worried student.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Professor," she said, swallowing quickly. "But we, that is, I haven't seen you in almost a week, and…and…" she hesitated, trying to make out his expression.

"Miss Granger," Snape ground out through clenched teeth, "I thought I had made it quite clear to the Headmaster that I wished to be left alone."

Hermione stood her ground. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Well, Miss Granger, now that you have satisfied your curiosity, might I ask you to LEAVE ME ALONE?" Snape's eyes flashed dangerously as he all but shouted the last few words.

Hermione crossed her arms and refused to budge. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Miss Granger…"

"Stop calling me that. You know my name."

"Miss GRANGER…you will leave at ONCE!"

Snape did not wait for a further challenge. Instead, he grabbed her forearm and dragged her back through the sitting room, into the office, and over towards the fireplace.

Without releasing his grip, he lit the fire _("Incendio!")_ tossed in some floo powder, and roughly pushed Hermione into the flames. As he opened his mouth to tell the floo connection where to send her, however, Hermione grabbed his hands and pulled him into the green flames with her.

"My chambers!" she cried out, and soon found herself back in her room, still clinging to a furious-looking Snape. She stepped out of the flames, pulling him with her. He tried to duck back through the floo connection, but she blocked his access to the fire with her own small body.

"Please stay for a moment. I have to talk to you." Hermione desperately needed to know what was wrong.

"We have nothing to say to each other."

"I don't understand." Hermione was close to tears. "What's changed? Why are you treating me like this? What did I do?"

Snape said nothing, compressing his lips into the thinnest of lines.

Looking up at his stern face, Hermione was struck with just how intimidating he could be. She'd made him angry; that was obvious. And certainly, an angry Snape was something to be feared.

Why then was she not afraid?

She had always been a clever girl, but this situation was beyond comprehension. The crazy mixture of emotions…all the desire, fear, hope, longing, and despair she'd felt for this man were too intense, too confusing for her now. At this moment, the only thing she understood was an overwhelming sense of need. She _needed_ him.

Hermione pictured touching him, tracing her fingers across his brow, then cupping his thin cheek in the palm of her hand. She tried to lean in close, but he would have none of that. She tried to take his hand again, but he pushed her away. Every move she made was instantly turned aside. Every question she asked went unanswered.

Finally, Hermione's frustration got the better of her. She struck out with her fists, trying to break through the incomprehensible barrier he was putting between them.

Pummeling as hard as she could against his chest, Hermione raged silently, her mind screaming. _"Damn you! __Damn__ you, Severus Snape! What did I do to deserve this? What the __hell__ did I do? Talk to me, you bastard! This is killing me!"_

A distinct contrast to the flailing girl, Severus Snape coolly looked down at her flushed cheeks and angry eyes. Without a trace of emotion he said, "You are to call me PROFESSOR Snape, Miss Granger. Surely you can remember something as simple as that."

His detachment only fanned the flames of her anger. "You're listening to my THOUGHTS," Hermione cried out, "…and _that's_ all you can say to me? You callous bastard!"

Snape trapped Hermione's wrists in a vise-like grip. She sought out his face, looking for some sign of compassion or understanding. Finding nothing but annoyance behind the cold glitter of his black eyes, Hermione at last stopped struggling.

There was nothing she could do. Nothing more to be said. She was a fool; worse, she was an object of scorn.

He did not want her. His behaviour had made that abundantly clear. He did not love her.

Turning away, Hermione stepped back and looked at the floor.

"Leave," she said.

The following day, Hermione received a note from the Headmaster, informing her that the temporary floo connection between her quarters and Snape's office had been deactivated.

**Chapter Seventeen: Curiouser and Curiouser**

With the return of its student body, Hogwarts was once again chaotic. Hermione's schoolwork, coupled with her duties as Head Girl, kept her busy and distracted. Since she had no time for it in her waking hours, Hermione's dreams provided the sole outlet for her grief.

All throughout the cold cheerless winter, Hermione dreamt of wandering alone beneath a frigid starlit sky. These dreams frequently centred around fleeting visions of a distant castle, its chimneys and minarets just visible above a sea of fog. In the endless darkness, the castle would play a frustrating game of hide and seek with Hermione. At times it would loom up quite close before her, only to disappear as she turned a corner. Each morning, Hermione awoke with an image of the elusive castle clearly burned in her memory and a persistent feeling of disappointment and regret.

For the most part, Hermione was able to disguise her sadness. After all, it wouldn't do for the Hogwarts Head Girl to walk around the school with clear evidence of a broken heart. Her closest friends were more apt to notice the change in Hermione, but she was able to chalk up her apparent distraction to concern over their upcoming NEWT examinations.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was a nightmare, however. She was punctual for class, took notes and did her assigned homework, all as if by rote. Other students were called upon to answer questions, since Hermione never raised her hand nor even spoke in the classroom.

Outwardly, Snape was the distant, bitter and sarcastic teacher he had always been. From behind the gleam of his black eyes, however, he watched with regret as the vitality of this brilliant young woman bled away. He knew that her pain was a result of his coldness. He also suspected that a single act of kindness on his part might be enough to bring life back to those sad eyes and a smile to her pale lips. His resolution remained firm, however: he would risk no harm to this girl. Let her finish with school. Let her graduate and leave Hogwarts-leave _him_-forever, rather than risk contaminating the one pure and perfect thing he had found in all his lonely years. She would forget him and move on with her life. It was for the best.

After classes had been back in session for roughly one week, Hermione was escorted by her Head of House to the Headmaster's office. Pausing in front of a stone gargoyle, Professor McGonagall uttered the password ("cherry nougat"), then directed the girl to the revolving spiral staircase which lead to Dumbledore's sanctuary.

The Headmaster was seated behind his desk, which was littered with parchment scraps and an odd assortment of spinning and whirring gadgets.

"Come in, Hermione. Please, have a seat." Dumbledore said gently, gesturing to a chair. "Can I offer you a cup of tea?"

Hermione shook her head with a trace of a sad smile. "No thank you, Sir. Professor McGonagall said there was something you wished to see me about?"

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said, steepling his long fingers as he leaned forward across the desk. "Professor Snape has informed me that the two of you have discontinued your work on the Legilimency Study."

Of all the things he could have asked about, this was the one she was least prepared to discuss. "That's true, Professor," she replied in a carefully controlled voice.

"Well, I can't pretend this comes as a complete surprise, my dear. I had suspected that Severus might find collaboration difficult. He is, as I believe I've mentioned before, a bit of a loner."

"_That's the understatement of the century!"_ Hermione reflected silently, glancing at the Headmaster's pensive face. Was it her imagination, or had his blue eyes reflected a sudden anxiety, as if he'd heard her bitter thought?

"You'll be happy to know, Hermione, that I have decided to proceed with the project, despite Severus' reluctance." Hermione was encouraged by this prospect, and Dumbledore continued. "Am I correct in assuming that your earlier experiments were sufficient to confirm the technique's usefulness?"

"Yes, Professor. We demonstrated, in both an experimental setting and in the real world, that trained Legilimency partners could in fact transmit useful information with no hint to external parties that a link was even in place."

"Excellent! And how would you feel about transferring this skill to others?" Dumbledore paused, a troubled look crossing his face. "I can't pretend we aren't facing very difficult times, Hermione," he said. "It would be a comfort to know that every possible defense…every available tool…was being used to help our cause. I have asked Severus to begin training Order members, and was hoping that you would be willing to do the same here, for a select group of students."

Hermione was heartened by the thought that, no matter what Snape's behaviour to her had been, something good had come out of the experience. She sat up straight, took a quill, ink and parchment out of her book bag, and settled in to take notes.

"When would you like me to start, Sir? And how should I proceed?"

A smile lit up Dumbledore's ancient face as the two of them planned Hermione's first foray into the world of teaching.

In the Gryffindor common room that night, Harry, Ron, Neville and Ginny clustered closely around Hermione as she described the plans for their first Legilimency session.

"Of course, no one can know about this, outside of a very select group," Hermione cautioned. "Professor Dumbledore has given me a list of the students that should be taught. They're sixth and seventh-years, mostly…a lot of the old group from Dumbledore's Army."

"What do you need from us, Hermione?" Harry seemed quite taken with the idea of resuming their private defense training. His eyes had more sparkle in them than Hermione had seen all year.

"Well, to start, we'll want to work out a schedule." Hermione showed her list to the girl sitting on Harry's right hand side. "Ginny, you're friends with a lot of these Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Can you find out, privately, what times would work best for them?" Ginny was eager to help, and said she would get right on it.

"Neville," Hermione continued tentatively, "do you think Kerry will be alright with this? I mean, she's the only Slytherin on the list…"

"I'll talk to her," Neville said in a quiet voice. "She's not had an easy time of it, but things are better now that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson are gone." Neville thought a moment before continuing. "Kerry's really strong, Hermione. I think she'll do it."

Ron and Harry then helped Hermione plan her first lesson, and she went to bed that night feeling more optimistic than she had for several weeks.

The Gryffindors were surprised to see Percy Weasley's owl, Hermes, soaring toward their table in the Great Hall the next day. Ron automatically extended his hand to take the envelope when the bird landed, but it would not yield its burden to anyone but Hermione.

"Looks like my distinguished brother's owl is just as useless as mine!" Ron said with some satisfaction. "Can't even deliver a letter to the right person. Hand it over, Hermione."

Hermione, however, was looking at the envelope with a baffled expression. "That's odd…" she said. "This really _is_ addressed to me."

"Why would Percy be writing to you?" Harry asked.

"I have no idea. Let's find out, shall we?" Hermione opened the envelope with a butter knife before extracting a single sheet of expensive-looking notepaper covered in a very precise script.

Hermione had thought of reading the letter aloud, but a quick scan convinced her this might not be a good idea. Phrases like "_hopes of meeting with you privately, my dear Hermione_" brought a blush to her cheeks.

"Well, what's it all about then?" Ron said, rolling his eyes when he saw her stuff the letter into her book bag.

"Err, no time to talk about it now, Ron," Hermione improvised quickly. "I forgot I have to pick up something from my room before Charms. I'll just see you there, alright?"

Hermione's eyes were glued to the floor as she rushed from the Hall. Had she glanced up, she might have wondered at the look of concern that flashed across Professor Snape's features as she crossed his path. As it was, the only thing she could think of was getting to the privacy of her chambers as quickly as possible.

"_Really, this is TOO odd of Percy!"_ Hermione thought exasperatedly as she began to read the letter.

My dear hermionie,

i hope you will forgive the uncharateristic informality in my mode of address, as well as what must have been the (pleasant i hope!) surprise at receiveing my owl this morning. I feel confident that what im about to propose will asure any concerns you may have about the letter itself.

On the 14th i will have the pleasure of attending a formal dinner (as a ministry represenitive no less!) at none other then the house of Lucius Malfoy. While it would be acceptable to attend without a partner, of course. I will inform you that i wish to invite you, as my date.

So that i may have the plesure of your personal response, might i ask for you to join me for a luncheon at the three broomsticks this saturday? I shall reserve a booth for us at noon, if that is conveinient. I would aslo look at it as a great personal favor for you not to disclose the contents of this letter to any of your associates. They might wish to "tag along", which would dash my hopes of meeting you privately my dear hermionie.

Untill saturday,

Percy Weasley

"And what precisely am I to make of _that_, may I ask?" Hermione said as she scratched Crookshanks under the chin. As Crookshanks had no answer, Hermione sighed, set the letter down, and rushed off to her first class of the day.

**Chapter Eighteen: Mustering the Troops**

The Three Broomsticks was a noisy place that Saturday. Hermione had no trouble spotting Percy's bright red hair, however, since he was head and shoulders taller than the Hogwarts students who had gathered for a pint of warming butterbeer.

"Hermione!" Percy beamed as he led her to a private booth in a far corner. "Don't you look radiant today?"

"Thanks, Percy." Unused to compliments from Ron's older brother, Hermione struggled for an appropriate reply. "Um, you look…fine, too."

Percy laughed gallantly, as if she'd made an especially witty remark.

"Mister Weasley and Miss Granger! How nice to see you both here." Madam Rosmerta smiled broadly as she handed them each a menu. "Can I get you something from the bar?"

"I'll have a red currant rum, and…" Percy gestured at Hermione, "I think some spiced cider for Miss Granger."

Hermione would have liked a butterbeer, but since Percy seemed eager to take charge, she simply nodded amiably. Looking over the menu, Hermione decided on a nice fillet of sole with mushrooms in a white wine cream sauce. Madam Rosmerta returned with their drinks, and Percy wasted no time.

"Thank you, Rosmerta," Percy said, "I believe we're ready to order. Miss Granger and I will both have the roast loin of pork with apple chutney."

"Percy?" Hermione interjected, "It you don't mind, I'd really prefer the sole fillet aux champignons."

Her companion raised his eyebrows, but made no other sign. "Ah yes, of course-how thoughtless of me. Change Miss Granger's order to the sole."

"Right. I'll bring your food as soon as it's ready." Madam Rosmerta slipped Hermione a sly wink as she made her way back to the bar.

"My dear Hermione, you must forgive me for being a trifle old-fashioned." Percy said as he raised his glass to sip gingerly at his rum. "Saving a lady the trouble of ordering for herself is one of the little pleasantries of courtship that a gentleman in my position is apt to indulge in."

Hermione choked on her cider at the word "courtship," but was luckily able to disguise her distress as a discreet cough into her napkin.

The smile Percy directed at her could easily have been the same as that given to Anne Boleyn by Henry the Eighth at their first meeting, and it made Hermione exceedingly uneasy.

"_Best nip this in the bud straight away!"_ Hermione thought, mentally steeling herself for an uncomfortable verbal exchange.

"Percy," Hermione said in a very distinct voice, "I appreciate your thinking of me, but I'm afraid I can't go with you on the fourteenth."

"My dear Hermione," Percy said in his smoothest voice, "if you're worried about appearances, let me assure you…"

Hermione held up her hand, and said quickly, "No, Percy. It's not that."

"Had you made other plans, then?"

"No, nothing special. I mean, it _is_ Valentine's Day, but…"

Hermione was trying to be gentle, but nothing on heaven or earth was going to get her within a hundred miles of the Malfoy estate again.

Percy's normally pale skin flushed as he asked, "Is it…" he seemed to struggle with the concept for a moment, "…is there…someone else?"

Hermione gave Percy a small smile and raised her shoulders without replying_. "Not that you'd stand a chance anyway,"_ she thought, _"but there's no sense hurting your feelings any more than I have to." _

Just then, Madam Rosmerta returned with their food. Hermione would normally have enjoyed the fish very much, but Percy's sullen look and the occasional twitch at the corner of his mouth made her very uncomfortable.

By the time they'd finished eating, Percy had regained enough of his composure to inquire after Hermione's preparations for the NEWTs. They talked briefly about the challenges of her seventh year curriculum before Percy brought the subject around to Harry's apparent depression.

"I couldn't help noticing that young Harry seemed a bit disheartened during my last visit," Percy said casually.

Relieved that the conversation was not reverting back to her love life, Hermione took up the subject gratefully. "Well, everyone's a bit on edge these days. I just think it hits Harry harder than the rest of us."

"He certainly seems…changed since I first made his acquaintance," Percy continued as he tapped the fingers of his right hand against his left wrist. Hermione thought she detected a hint of pleasure in his tone, but brushed the idea aside.

"I think I can understand how he feels." Hermione said. "After all, it can't be easy, being the target of Voldemort and his clutch of Death Eaters year after year…"

Percy's fingers stopped their tapping, moving instead to his glass of rum. "You said the Dark Lord's name," Percy said as he tossed back the last of the glass' contents.

"It makes more sense than muttering about 'He Who Must Not Be Named' or 'Lord Thingy' all the time." Hermione said with a carefully concealed smile. "How are we supposed to fight someone when we're not even brave enough to call him by his proper name?"

Soon thereafter it was time for Hermione to return to Hogwarts. Percy graciously helped her put on her cloak, and assured her that he harboured no ill feelings about the dinner on the fourteenth.

"Who knows, my dear…" Percy said with a return to his gallant style, "I may soon be in a position to entice you away from your other admirers!"

"_Thank Merlin __that's__ over and done with!"_ Hermione thought as she made her way back to the school.

"Please have a seat, everyone!" Hermione called as the students in her first Legilimency Class filed into the room.

The Room of Requirement seemed the best place to hold these sessions. The need for secrecy was paramount, and Hermione had found a way to disguise the room so that no one could enter while they were training. She checked off names against Dumbledore's list, and was happy to note that all eighteen students were present.

"Right. Thank you all for coming." Hermione began. "As you were told, Professor Dumbledore has asked me to train you in a new off-shoot of Legilimency and Occlumency. I've been calling this new technique 'Key Image Transmission,' and the Headmaster feels it might play an important role in defense, should the need arise." Several students gave Hermione worried glances, but all appeared interested as she continued.

"The technique works by linking a specific message to a set key image. Once that link is established, the sender performs a modified Confundus Charm on the appropriate section of his or her own memory, leaving the key image intact, but scrambling, as it were, the actual message contents. The sender then transmits the image to another party. The receiver, recognising the key image, is able to perform a mental action on that image which, in turn, unscrambles the original message."

A few of the students looked excited and interested, while other had looks of confusion on their faces.

"This will really be much easier to demonstrate than it is to explain. Can I have a volunteer?"

Susan Bones, a seventh-year Hufflepuff with a long, thick braid down the middle of her back, stood up and came forward. "I think I understand, and I'd like to give it a try."

Hermione smiled warmly at the girl, and motioned for her to stand in the centre of the room.

"First, we need to agree on the same key image. I thought perhaps we could all use the image of Dobby, the house elf. Does everyone know Dobby?"

Everyone was familiar with Dobby and happy with the idea, so Hermione continued. "I will now compose my message. Once I know what I want to tell Susan, I will focus on Dobby in my mind, linking his image to that message." She did so. "Now I do a quick Confundus Charm on my memory of the message, leaving Dobby's image intact."

Michael Corner raised his hand. "Excuse me, Hermione." She looked at him questioningly, and he continued, "You didn't use your wand. I don't know how to do the Confundus Charm without my wand."

"Okay, how many are unfamiliar with basic wandless magic?" Four people, including Michael, raised their hands. "Well, that's something we can work on, but it shouldn't hold us back. For now, let's just continue with the transfer, okay?"

"I transmit Dobby's image to Susan. It helps to think of pushing a photograph across a table for someone else to look at." She sent the image to Susan, who instantly got a slightly mystified look on her face. "Susan, can you tell everyone what just happened?"

"Well, I was thinking about what you were saying, and suddenly I thought of a strangely-dressed house elf," Harry and Ron exchanged amused looks as Susan continued, "bowing in front of me. It just popped into my head!" She looked at Hermione as if questioning what she had seen.

"Perfect!" Hermione said with a wide smile. "Alright, let's continue. In order for you to unscramble the message, you will need to mentally perform a specific action on the image. In the case of Dobby, you need to say 'Thank you!'"

"Thank you!" Susan said out loud. She furrowed her brows and looked at Hermione. "It didn't work! He's still bowing, and there's no message."

"You shouldn't actually say 'thank you' out loud, Susan. Just do it in your head."

Susan concentrated again, and in a second, returned a huge smile to Hermione. "I heard your voice! You said 'Hop on your left foot, Susan!'"

"That's wonderful! Thank you, Susan!" Hermione clapped and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. "Let's have those who don't know how to do a wandless Confundus Charm over in this corner. Everyone else, please pair up and try trading simple commands back and forth."

For the next hour, Hermione presided over the four students who were working on their first piece of wandless magic. On the other end of the room, students were alternatively hopping on one foot, spinning in place, sitting abruptly on the floor, blowing raspberries, and generally acting silly on the mentally transmitted instructions of their partners.

The class ended with everyone feeling quite cheerful. Hermione was pleased that the students had done so well in their first session, and was eager to report their progress to Dumbledore.

**Chapter Nineteen: The Tapestry**

Harry Potter sat alone in the Gryffindor common room, staring absently as feather-light flecks of ash rose from the fire before disappearing up the chimney.

"_Sirius, Cedric, Mum, Dad…"_ he thought morbidly, _"…little ghosts floating up and out. Leaving me…always leaving…"_

Ginny stood in the doorway, her brown eyes shining with unshed tears as she watched Harry in his solitude.

"_This isn't right,"_ she thought. _"Nobody should have to bear this much of a burden on their own." _

Quietly, she approached the young man, circling around to stand between him and the flickering light of the fire. Harry slowly raised his sad eyes to her face.

With a muffled cry, Ginny dropped to her knees and took both his hands. One at a time, she raised his palms to her lips, kissing them gently before clasping them between her own. Her tears flowed freely, and she watched as shining droplets made paths down Harry's pale cheeks.

Neither said a word. Green eyes looked desperately into brown, searching for something that he could not name. Ginny stood up and moved to sit beside Harry on the worn leather sofa. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him in to rest his dark head against her neck. With her steady pulse thrumming in his ears and her soft, warm hand gently caressing his cheek, Harry closed his eyes against the visions of death and despair that threatened to overwhelm him.

Several hours later, Dobby the house elf made his way to the Gryffindor common room to do his nightly cleaning. Seeing the pair sleeping peacefully entwined on the couch, Dobby smiled and pulled a warm knitted blanket over their laps.

"Harry Potter is finding his forever Wheezy," Dobby murmured. "Forever Wheezy is making good wife for brave Harry Potter. Nobody loves Harry Potter better than his forever Wheezy-not even Dobby."

That same night, Hermione's dream of an elusive, fog-shrouded castle returned. In the midst of her frustrating search, a loud _THUMP _jarred Hermioneawake. She looked around anxiously, only to find a very intent Crookshanks making wide swipes at a spider he'd trapped in the corner.

"You could have picked a better time to catch yourself a snack, you know!" Hermione sighed. Unfortunately, the disturbing nature of her dream coupled with the startling way she'd been awakened prevented Hermione from falling back to sleep. She tossed and turned in the chilly room for almost an hour before getting up.

"A quick walk around the halls might calm me down," she reasoned. "Besides, the Head Girl should do patrol duty once in a while. Who knows what goes on in the dead of night around here?"

She shrugged on her worn flannel robe, donned a pair of puffy down slippers, and picked up her wand before heading out into the corridor.

Hogwarts was absolutely still; even the resident ghosts seemed to be in hibernation at this odd hour. Hermione's softly clad feet whispered along the stone floor as she walked the length of the main hallway. The doors of the Great Hall were open, and Hermione hazarded a peek inside. Looking up at the enchanted ceiling, Hermione was heartened by the delicate twinkle of stars and wisps of feathery light cloud that danced across the face of the moon.

Returning to the corridor, Hermione decided to visit some of the towers_. "I could use the exercise,"_ she thought, _"seeing as how I have my rooms and most of my classes on the ground floor this year."_

Making her way up one staircase after another, she watched in amusement as the portrait subjects snoozed in their frames. One very fat wizard wore a hat with an outrageously long purple feather drooping forward in front of his face. Hermione watched as the plume was alternately blown away and sucked back almost into his mouth by the force of the man's intense snoring.

She was just crossing the next landing when she heard familiar footsteps approaching. Too late to hide, she raised her eyes to watch Professor Snape as he descended from the level above her.

"Professor." Hermione said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded over the hammering of her heart.

"Miss Granger." Snape rejoined. "This is an eccentric time for a stroll. Would you care to explain yourself?"

"Actually, no, Professor," Hermione replied, setting her jaw. "I have no intention of 'explaining myself.' As Head Girl, I was given full access to the school and its grounds, whenever I felt the need."

The coolness of her reply belied Hermione's pain, which had not lessened with the passage of time. Snape's rejection still hurt; no matter how hard she tried, Hermione still loved him.

"And what…" Snape raised one black eyebrow, "_need_ is motivating you at three thirty five on a Wednesday morning, Miss Granger?"

His detachment only reminded Hermione of how little he cared. She was desperate to do something…_anything_…to make him understand what he was putting her through.

One thing she'd learned from their previous interactions, however, was that any emotional display would be met with cool formality on his part. She resolved to never give him the pleasure of humiliating her again.

Brushing past him, Hermione tossed a quick "Good night, Professor," over her shoulder, walking away as quickly as she could.

Snape's eyebrow took a full thirty seconds to return to its normal position as he stared after the young woman.

Thinking only of getting away from Snape, Hermione soon found herself in a completely unfamiliar corridor. To all appearances, this was a normal Hogwarts hallway. It was lit with blazing torches, and old portraits and suits of armour were dotted along the walls at regular intervals.

At the far end of the corridor, an open archway glowed with a dazzling white light. Despite the lateness of the hour, Hermione felt drawn to the archway and started towards it. Instantly, she perceived a shift in the magical energy of the place. As she drew closer, Hermione's progress became increasingly difficult, as if she were swimming against a strong current.

Finally reaching the end of the corridor, Hermione caught a fresh scent blowing deliciously from the room in front of her. "Like a cotton sheet that's been hung to dry in the garden," she thought happily. A very faint sound of tinkling bells-gentle as the morning mist blanketing a field of wildflowers-thrilled Hermione as she took her first step into the room beyond the arch.

Looking around her for the source of the light, scent, and sound, Hermione caught her breath in surprise. Physically, there was no way this room could exist inside the castle. The wall in which the archway stood stretched up to an incredible height. It was so tall, in fact, that Hermione could not perceive any sort of ceiling to the room. Bringing her gaze back down in front her, Hermione squinted toward what should have been the other three walls of the room. Again, she could see nothing but open space, bathed in that same pure white light.

As she stood pondering the room's vastness, Hermione became aware of a distinct point of light drifting slowly toward her. About three feet in front of her face it stopped, then began to trace rainbow-hued letters in the air.

The Tapestry of Life awaits

The weaving of the players' fates.

Each soul that wanders to this room

Leaves their own colour on my loom.

Though sweet and gentle men are rare,

Their thread is Blue to show they care.

Weave Gold to prove that you are smart,

If Pink, true love is in your heart.

Compassion is not often seen.

To honour it, weave Palest Green.

To men of peace, a Silver thread,

While anger's surge is shown Blood-Red.

If Violet be your chosen hue,

The spirit realm will summon you.

If Orange, you're a friend who's caring,

Bright Red says you are bold and daring.

If fairness is your heart's desire

You'll sew with thread of Rich Sapphire.

And to the strong, Dark Brown appeals,

While Purple thread shows high ideals.

The common sense that makes men wise

Brings Forest Green before your eyes.

In Black is cloaked a soul obscure.

To White are called the just and pure.

And though you know it not, it seems

I've guessed the content of your dreams.

I know which colour suits you best.

Just close your eyes. I'll do the rest.

The point of light stopped moving, and Hermione closed her eyes. Her right hand still clutched her wand, while her left hand, which had been empty, was suddenly holding something very soft and slick. Opening her eyes and bringing her left hand to her face, she found herself holding a skein of silky thread in the colour of young grass.

She looked up again to find the speck of light dancing before her eyes. It wandered slowly away, then stopped as if waiting for her to follow it. Keeping just slightly ahead of her, the light moved steadily away from the room's entrance, always drawing Hermione with it. When Hermione could no longer see the archway through which she had arrived, the point of light stopped moving.

To Hermione, it was a bit like standing in the centre of a great, flat, featureless plain. There was nothing but air, light and the horizon as far as she could see in any direction. Normally this would have been a little unnerving, but the tranquility of the place had lulled Hermione into a dream-like state. Smiling vaguely, she waited for the point of light to indicate her next step.

The air began to fill with rainbow-coloured letters once again.

As darkness yields to rising sun

We find the weaving's just begun.

The thread you hold must now unite

With others gathered in the light.

I bring to you a linen fine

On which you may inscribe your line.

And though you doubt your weaving skill,

I promise that you'll not do ill.

Just thread the needle next to you.

The silk you hold knows what to do.

It reads your thoughts; it sees your mind,

And it will weave whate'er it finds.

Hermione saw that a very sharp embroidery stiletto had appeared directly in front of her right hand. She moved her wand to a pocket of her robe, took the stiletto, and with a few false starts, managed to get the pale green silk threaded into the needle.

At once the needle soared up and away in front of her, heading toward a vast piece of very old-looking linen that had stretched as far as she could see in front of her. She tried to watch as the needle made contact with the cloth, but her eyelids suddenly seemed impossibly heavy, and she drifted off into a deep sleep within seconds.

**Chapter Twenty: Down to the Wire**

Hermione awoke in her own bed with no memory of how she'd gotten there. She also felt completely rested, as if she'd had an uninterrupted night of sound sleep. Unfortunately, any questions she might have about the previous night's strange events would have to wait, since she had a hungry cat to feed, not to mention getting herself ready for Advanced Potions which began in just over an hour.

Conversation at the Gryffindor breakfast table was at an all-time low. Even Ron, who was a legendary procrastinator when it came to studying, had his nose buried in a textbook. With the end of Easter break had come the realisation that their NEWT examinations were rapidly approaching. From all reports, the NEWTs would make the OWLs they'd taken in their fifth year look like a friendly game of gobstones by comparison.

Neville and Kerry sat together, slightly off to one side so their conversation would not disturb the others. Since Kerry was only in her sixth year, she spent her free time quizzing Neville in his weakest subjects. Today they were running through some of the advanced Transfigurations that Professor McGonagall had hinted might appear on the NEWTs.

Everyone knew that Neville and Kerry had been dating since Halloween, but they still tried to disguise the fact by holding hands discreetly under the table. Hermione found the innocence of their relationship heartening. Despite the troubles facing the wizarding world, there was still a place for people like Neville and Kerry.

Hermione also recognised a distinct shift in the dynamics between Ginny and Harry. For years, Harry had been blind to Ginny's devotion. At first he'd been infatuated with Cho Chang, a very pretty Ravenclaw girl. But when that relationship didn't materialise, Harry seemed resigned to being alone.

Today, however, something was different. Ginny's attitude toward Harry hadn't changed; when they spoke, she still wore the warm half-smile she'd always reserved solely for him. Harry, however, looked like someone who had just awakened from a nightmare. Though still tired, with the remnants of sadness in his eyes, he looked gratefully at Ginny. When she took his left hand between both of her own, he raised their joined hands to his lips and brushed a light kiss across her knuckles.

With the exception of Advanced Potions, all of the seventh year classes had taken the form of intensive review sessions for the NEWTs. In lieu of the more traditional essays or research, homework consisted primarily of assigned review from the advanced texts in each subject accompanied by mandatory practice sessions every evening.

Given their busy schedules, Hermione was having trouble getting all of the participants in her special Legilimency class together at once. However, since they'd made significant progress in their first few sessions, this was only a minor drawback. Everyone was able to consistently encode and decode their transmissions using Dobby as the key image.

The only remaining problems stemmed from the tendency of some students to issue needlessly complex commands through the link. Ernie Macmillan was especially prone to overwhelming a recipient with instructions. Susan Bones had privately complained to Hermione that his last transmission had been as follows:

"_Stand up and walk to the southwest corner of the room. Take the largest of the three yellow candles—make sure you get a yellow candle, __not__ an orange one—off the shelf. Carry the large yellow candle to the rough wooden table next to the life-sized bust of Barnabas the Barmy and set it down gently, but make sure you don't spill any wax on the…" _

…at which juncture Susan had disgustedly ended the link and told Ernie to "Get to the POINT, already!" Hermione, carefully keeping a straight face, had said that she would ask Ernie to work on streamlining his transmissions in the future.

Professor Dumbledore approached Hermione one rainy April afternoon and asked her to come see him in his office after dinner. He indicated that he had some news about Professor Snape's portion of the Legilimency skills transfer project, and told Hermione he would like to hear about her group's progress as well.

After a satisfying meal of chicken and dumplings, salad and warm apple pie, Hermione made her way to Dumbledore's office. En route, she caught a glimpse of billowing black robes as Professor Snape rushed down the stairs toward the dungeon.

Pushing aside her curiosity, Hermione gave the stone gargoyle the password ("Ton tongue toffee!") and once again found herself on the revolving spiral staircase that led to the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore was standing at Fawkes' perch as Hermione arrived, stroking the phoenix lightly on the top of his head with one elderly finger. Hermione was struck by the contrast between the thin, papery-white skin on the Headmaster's hand and the bird's brilliant crimson and gold plumage.

"_Really,"_ Hermione thought sadly, _"he looks so very old and tired these days."_

Trying to sound cheerful, she said, "Ready to report, Professor!"

"Ah, Miss Granger! Thank you for coming," the Headmaster replied as he slowly moved to his chair behind the desk. "Please have a seat. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?"

Hermione thanked him and accepted the sweet. She looked at Dumbledore, expecting him to start the conversation, but was shocked to see him rubbing at his temple, a look of distraction and fear in his eyes. The image of the powerful, all-knowing Headmaster was so ingrained in his students' minds that it was quite unnerving for Hermione to see him looking so frail and human.

"Forgive me, my dear," Dumbledore said shakily. "I've just had a bit of…bad news. I'll be myself again in a moment."

"Oh, Professor!" Hermione said, coming around the desk to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. "What is it? What's happened? Is there anything I can do?"

Dumbledore said nothing, but Hermione's mind was racing. Hadn't she seen Snape rushing away from the Headmaster's office just moments ago?

"_Oh God, no! Not again!"_ Hermione thought, as she imagined Snape returning to spy on Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Although she wished to dismiss the thought, what else could have caused the Headmaster's distress? Dumbledore had been his usual merry self just thirty minutes ago at dinner, and Snape had likely been his only caller since then.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione's voice was strangely weak. "Did he…has he…has Professor Snape…gone away again?" It irked her to speak in such careful metaphors, but to boldly say it-to ask outright if the man she loved was facing torture and death-was more than Hermione could bear.

She knew the answer before Dumbledore spoke. "Yes, Miss Granger. I'm afraid that Severus has indeed been…called away."

The Headmaster looked up, his face full of concern and real sorrow. Tears tickled the corners of Hermione's eyes, but she refused to give in to her fear.

"He'll be back. He always comes back," she whispered, more in reassurance to herself than to him. After a few moments of silence, Hermione gave Dumbledore's shoulder one last squeeze before returning to her chair.

"So, Professor…" She cleared her throat, then continued in a stronger voice, "I believe you wanted a report on my Legilimency skills transfer project."

Hermione and Dumbledore spent a solid hour discussing the progress of her students, the use of the house elf image, and the logistical challenges of applying this technique in a large group setting. Hermione voiced her own concern about confidentiality. While most data transfers could safely take place using the house elf image, she worried that security might be a bit lacking with this arrangement.

"Actually, Miss Granger," Dumbledore confessed, "…that is what Severus has been working most closely with. He and I came to the same conclusion some time ago, and have decided on a separate key that is only to be used by select members of the Order."

Hermione was torn between relief that this had been taken into consideration and annoyance with herself for not thinking of it sooner. She was shaken out of her self-recriminations, however, when Dumbledore's soft voice recalled her to the present.

"I think, Miss Granger, that since you have been so instrumental in developing this technique, we can definitely consider you one of the 'select' members of the group. Let me share the key image with you."

The Headmaster selected another sherbet lemon and extended his hand, palm up, to Hermione. She looked at his hand, looked into his brilliant blue eyes, and heard his voice speak clearly in her head—

"_Take the sweet, Miss Granger."_

She did so, both in her thoughts and in reality. Dumbledore's voice once again spoke in her mind, this time with words of comfort.

"_I understand what you are feeling, my dear. Just give Severus time. He has seen much darkness. He cannot accept your love until he has forgiven himself. And don't forget_…"(here the voice held something like gentle laughter) _"…you still have to graduate!"_

Hermione blushed and lowered her eyes. Searching for something a bit less embarrassing to talk about, she brought up the subject of the Tapestry Room. She described her insomnia, wandering through the halls, pushing past the currents of strong magical energy as she fought her way toward the arch…

"And that room, Professor! I've never seen anything like it." Since that night, Hermione's thoughts had often returned to the vast, brilliantly lit chamber. She had sometimes found herself wondering if it really had been a dream after all.

"Ahh, good! Very good!" Dumbledore said with twinkling eyes as he rubbed his hands together. "I was hoping you'd make your mark there!"

"What do you know about it, Sir?" Hermione persisted. "You've been there and seen it yourself, I suppose?"

"Oh yes, yes indeed!" Dumbledore continued, "I have…how did that line go? Oh yes, I 'left my own colour' there, ages ago. I was hoping for something bright, you know? Maybe an orange or gold, or crimson thread. But strangely enough, I was given silver." Dumbledore shrugged. "Well, I suppose it knows what it's doing. The castle's never let me down before, after all."

"I was given pale green." Hermione replied. "But do you know the purpose of it all, Professor? What is the Tapestry for, exactly?"

"Ahh, Miss Granger! I would never presume to know all of Hogwarts' secrets. The Tapestry is certainly one of its most intriguing." Dumbledore smiled mischievously as he continued, "I'm sure everything will become clear, in time."

Just then, a hurried knock came at the door. The Headmaster had barely opened his mouth to respond when Professor Snape strode briskly into the room.

"Severus!" Dumbledore called out delightedly. "Excellent! Miss Granger and I were wondering when you would return."

Clearly, Snape had not anticipated finding Hermione there. He stepped back a few paces and a shuttered look came over his eyes as he acknowledged her presence.

"Miss Granger. Good evening."

"Hello Professor. I _am_ glad to see you," Hermione breathed, not bothering to hide her relief.

Turning back to the Headmaster, Snape said, "There is little to report, Sir. As this appears to be an inconvenient time, might we discuss tonight's events in the morning?"

"Yes of course, Severus. It is getting late, isn't it?" Stealing a sly wink at Hermione, he continued. "Perhaps you would be so good as to escort Miss Granger back to her room, as you're going in much the same direction…?"

Snape bowed, then turned a questioning eye to Hermione. She quickly took leave of the Headmaster and followed Snape at a rapid pace down to the ground floor.

"Slow down please!" Hermione said breathlessly, clutching a stitch in her side.

Snape moderated his pace. "Thank you, Professor," Hermione said as she hurried to catch up. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a runner."

They reached the door to her chambers, and Snape turned to go.

"Ummm, Professor?" Hermione said, grasping his forearm lightly. "I can't tell you…" she faltered, swallowing against the lump in her throat, "…I can't tell you how…how _happy_ I am that you got back safely tonight."

Snape's glittering black eyes softened for a moment. With the slightest of pressure, he brought his hand to rest over hers before removing them both from his sleeve.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he replied with a faint smile. "Your concern means a great deal to me. Good night." With that, he turned abruptly and glided swiftly down the corridor to the dungeon stairs.

**Chapter Twenty-One: Nastily Exhausting, Indeed!**

Combing her hair before the bathroom mirror, Hermione reviewed the interaction she'd just had with Snape. She could have sworn she'd seen something like tenderness in his glance when his hand had closed over hers.

"How can that be, though?" she scolded herself. "He's made his contempt clear enough in the past. Don't start acting the fool again over a man who doesn't care about you!"

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, wishing beyond anything that she could see into Snape's thoughts, right now. As if in answer to her wish, her mind was suddenly filled with vivid images that were not her own.

She saw a virtually empty Hogwarts library where a lone girl sat at a central table, engrossed in a large textbook. With a shock, Hermione realised the seated figure was her own. She shared her current perspective with a tall, dark man; Professor Snape had been in the Library that afternoon, though Hermione had been unaware of it at the time.

She watched as the remembered Hermione coiled a length of brown hair around one finger, sighing. A beam of sunlight bathed the seated form, and the Snape from this memory slowly put down the book he'd been holding.

At this point, the scene made an abrupt departure from Hermione's own recollection of that day.

Instead of continuing to watch from behind a stack of books, Professor Snape strode forward and gently took the textbook out of the seated girl's hands. The vision of Hermione looked up as Snape's long fingers buried themselves in her mass of curly hair, his mouth descending to capture her own in a tender kiss. Without breaking away, the seated figure rose and was drawn in tight against Snape's chest. The two figures stayed thus entwined, her small hands tracing intricate patterns along the nape of his neck as their lips and tongues met in an endless dance.

Slowly, the vision faded and Hermione found herself back in the present, staring at her own bewildered reflection in the mirror.

It was the end of May, and the seventh-year students were deeply immersed in their NEWT exams. Having breezed through both the written and practical sections of Charms that morning, Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room on Monday night reviewing her Transfiguration notes.

Ron and Harry were nearby, alternately quizzing each other for the upcoming test and speculating about the likely outcome of Saturday's Quidditch final.

"Can't believe we're going up against Slytherin again!" Ron moaned. Over the course of seven years, many of Gryffindor's hardest won games had been against Snape's House team.

"Their new Seeker's not too bad," Harry mused, mentally comparing his new Slytherin counterpart against the despised Draco Malfoy. "Good flyer, though a bit slow to react."

Ginny, who had been a Gryffindor Chaser since the previous year, joined in the conversation. "I've got a little bet on with Kerry," she confessed. "If Slytherin wins, I owe her five galleons. If we win…" here Ginny smiled wickedly at Neville, "Kerry comes clean about where she and Neville disappeared to after dinner Friday night!"

Neville rolled his eyes at the young redhead, but joined in the general laughter nonetheless.

While exhausting, Hermione found the rest of the week's exams to be, on the whole, enjoyable. The one she'd been least confident about was Potions, since Professor Benson's "hands off" approach to teaching was ill-suited to preparing his students for the NEWTs. Fortunately, Professor Snape had been so demanding in his handling of the subject during the six previous years that even Harry performed quite well on both the written and practical exams.

"Never thought I'd say this, Hermione," Harry said as they walked to the Great Hall for dinner on Thursday night, "…but old Snape really did us a favour, working us so hard in Potions all those years."

"I'm glad to hear you say it, Harry." Hermione replied. "I wish you could find it in your heart to tell him. I know it would mean a lot." Harry looked as if he wanted to laugh, but a quick glance at Hermione's serious expression convinced him not to risk it.

That night, Hermione's dreams once again found her struggling to reach the fog-shrouded castle. This time, however, every step she took brought her closer, and she delighted at the prospect of actually attaining her goal. Soon she found herself standing before the castle, looking up at the vast stone walls with a strange feeling of mingled triumph and anticipation.

From this new vantage point, she could see a faint light shining from a window in the very highest tower. With absolute certainty, she knew she had to reach the source of that light. Up endless staircases she climbed, higher and higher, until it seemed her lungs would burst and her legs would give out from the effort.

At last, when she was ready to surrender to exhaustion and admit defeat, the stone floor leveled out. Hermione was standing at the top of the highest staircase, looking at a sliver of light peeking from beneath a heavy wooden door opposite her. She crept forward, the sound of her own footsteps echoing loudly in the otherwise silent castle. With a trembling hand, Hermione reached to the old-fashioned doorknob, turned it, and listened as the door creaked open in response to her slight push.

The creaking of the door changed abruptly-and surprisingly-into the insistent sound of a bell. With a start, Hermione realised that her Muggle-made alarm clock was going off, and it was time to rise for the last day of her exams.

"Oh, _bother_!" Hermione grumbled as she headed for the bathroom. "Just when that dream was getting interesting!"

Exams were over. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch final (though it was a close game), and Hermione suddenly realised that her time at Hogwarts had dwindled down to a few precious days. The seventh-year students spent much of their time exchanging mementos, talking over old times, and making plans to meet again in the world outside of Hogwarts.

Hermione did her fair share of reminiscing, but couldn't help wondering how many of these planned reunions would really come to fruition. People tended to drift apart, no matter how well intentioned they were at the outset. Luckily for Hermione, she had made some truly enduring friendships at school. No matter what happened, she would make sure that Ron, Harry, Neville and Ginny would always be a part of her life.

One relationship, however, remained a mystery to Hermione. Over the past year, her feelings for Professor Snape had grown into something she had never experienced before. She had always respected Snape, despite the favouritism he showered on his Slytherin students. Working so closely with him on the Legilimency project had crystallised her good opinion of his mind and character. Yes, she respected him still, but that was now just one small part of Hermione's current feelings for her Professor.

At night, when she was left with nothing but her own reflections, Hermione inevitably thought of Snape. Though it brought fresh pain, she relived their every interaction, letting her heart bleed anew with every rejection, and feeling it soar each time she sensed they had grown closer.

And although Hermione was baffled at Snape's unpredictability, she was absolutely sure of one thing. He might hate her, or he might love her, but he was certainly no longer indifferent to her.

Hogwarts tradition dictated a very special Leaving Feast for its graduating students. For this event, the students traded in their standard black Hogwarts robes for a kaleidoscopic mixture of Wizarding and Muggle finery.

Parvati Patil, at last free to express her fashion sense, wore a sky blue gown embroidered with brilliant butterflies that actually swooped and fluttered with each step she took. Muggle-born Dean Thomas cut quite a dashing figure in a black tuxedo with spotless white shirt and bow tie. And instead of the old-fashioned maroon robe with shabby collar and cuffs he'd worn to the Yule Ball in their fourth year, Ron looked remarkably handsome in smartly tailored dress robes of midnight blue.

Hermione wore a Muggle dress made of fine, dove grey silk. The bodice was dusted with thousands of tiny rhinestones which sparkled like stars in the candlelight. Hermione had asked for Ginny's help in dressing, since the garment closed with dozens of tiny cloth-covered buttons stretching down the length of her back. Hermione had gathered her hair into a simple pony tail using a matching silk bow, but had left a few loose curls around her face to frame it softly. This completed her toilette, as the Head Girl had never been one to indulge in cosmetics.

The dress, a gift from her parents, had been delivered earlier that morning.

Since attendance at this feast was limited to Faculty, Staff and seventh-years only, the traditional long House tables were abandoned in favour of the smaller round tables used at the Yule Ball. The table settings were also something of a departure from routine. In lieu of the customary golden plates and goblets, the tables were laden with fine bone china and intricately carved crystal goblets. Vases of early summer blooms in all the colours of the rainbow, tablecloths and napkins of richly embroidered damask, and the mellow glow of a thousand pure white tapers brought an unexpected feeling of warmth and intimacy to the hall.

To almost everyone's surprise, small placards with the names of the students and faculty were dotted around the tables. Instead of dividing the students along House lines as one might expect, it seemed that seats had been assigned almost randomly.

Hermione's table of ten consisted of three faculty members (Professors Trelawney, Benson, and Snape) and seven students (Hermione, Harry, Neville, Susan Bones, Slytherins Millicent Bulstrode and Morag MacDougal, and Ravenclaw Lisa Turpin). Hermione's dinner partners were Professor Trelawney, with whom she had fallen out during her third year, and Millicent Bulstrode, who had once attempted to throttle Hermione during a dueling lesson. Poor Neville was faring even worse, however, having been seated between Miss Bulstrode and Professor Snape.

_"What sadist came up with __this__ seating arrangement?"_ Hermione thought wildly, watching Neville curl into a foetal position when Snape asked him to pass the salt. _"This has disaster written all over it!"_

Fortunately, the meal progressed without incident. Hermione savoured her Filet Mignon au Poivre, truffled mashed potatoes and fresh asparagus while listening to her former Divination teacher boast about her great-great-grandmother, the legendary Spiritualist Cassandra Trelawney. On Hermione's other side, Millicent Bulstrode gobbled her food down indiscriminately, and did not seem inclined to make conversation.

As they finished their coffee and crème brulee, the Headmaster got slowly to his feet, clearing his throat to gain everyone's attention.

"In yet another break with tradition," Dumbledore said as he raised a glass of champagne to his assembled guests, "…allow me to propose a toast."

Hermione sought out her water goblet, as she had consumed no alcohol during the meal. Turning back to her place setting, however, Hermione found a graceful champagne flute ready to hand. Dumbledore continued.

"To the Hogwarts Graduating Class of nineteen hundred and ninety eight-may all good things come to you. May your lives be ever filled with joy, love and pure magic."

Hermione raised her glass to her lips, savouring the mingled aromas of ripe peach, green apple, and sweet butter that the pale straw-coloured wine released. Sneaking a quick glance at Professor Snape, she saw a look of satisfaction cross his face as he sniffed appreciatively at the vintage before drinking.

Dumbledore remained standing, watching his guests enjoy their glasses of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin. After a few moments, he spoke again.

"I know you must all be heartily tired of tests by now," the old Wizard teased, "…but I must beg your indulgence one last time." Several students groaned loudly. "I have taken the liberty of seating you next to individuals for whom you have, for lack of a better phrase, no particular affinity."

_"I should have known it was him!"_ Hermione thought, remembering the look of disgust that had appeared on Harry's face as he'd taken his seat on Snape's right hand side.

"There is, you see, a _method_ to my madness." Dumbledore's sparkling eyes took in the poorly matched group as he continued. "The concept of reconciliation has always appealed to me. I will now ask each of you to find something positive to say to the individuals seated directly on your left and right."

This last remark was met with utter silence.

"Come, come…I insist that you all at least _try_. We can't have you leaving Hogwarts with grudges that might be overcome with a little effort. Who would like to start things off with a demonstration?"

Almost against her own will, Hermione's hand came up_. "I really should learn to control my obsession with answering every single question!"_ she thought ruefully.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore said, rubbing his hands together. "If you would then, Miss Granger, please find something nice, but sincere, to say to Professor Trelawney."

Hermione, strangely enough, did not have to think very long. She had often regretted her rash decision to walk out of Trelawney's Divination classroom at the end of her third year. This, she decided, was a good place to start.

"Professor," Hermione began with a small smile, "I want you to know that I appreciate your loyalty to this school. We aren't always the easiest students to work with, and I'd like to say that I'm grateful for your efforts." Professor Trelawney timidly met her gaze, and Hermione was surprised to see tears glistening in the older woman's eyes.

"Thank you, my dear," Trelawney whispered as she removed her outsized spectacles and dabbed at her eyes with a gauzy handkerchief. She grasped Hermione's hand tightly in her own, a trembling smile raising the corners of her thin mouth.

The Headmaster led the assembled group in a loud round of applause, after which he encouraged everyone to follow Hermione's example. Soon the Great Hall was buzzing with sincere words of gratitude, apology and forgiveness.

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Reconciliation**

Hermione sat alone amidst the remnants of the Leaving Feast, absently twirling the stem of a small white rose between her finger and thumb. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly, wandering over the events of the last few hours.

The Headmaster had surprised them all by forcing old wounds to be healed before the graduates went their separate ways. She had watched in fascination as estranged people had begun to come together in an atmosphere of mercy and tolerance. The biggest surprise of the evening, however, had been the sheer number of people who had sought out Professor Snape.

Dumbledore had only asked them to resolve their conflicts with their immediate neighbours, yet a steady queue of students had visited their table to speak with the dark and previously unapproachable Snape. While she hadn't overheard everything, Hermione was gratified when a stuttering Neville thanked Snape for his kindness to Kerry. Apparently Snape had gone out of his way to ensure that the other Slytherins refrained from harassing Kerry after Malfoy's attack.

Harry had done the impossible: in addition to thanking him for his thoroughness as a teacher, the Boy Who Lived had apologised to Snape for the many times he'd shown the Professor disrespect.

Hermione remembered Snape's startled reaction with a tearful smile. He must have been shown very little compassion in his life, if a few kind words from a student had made such an impression.

Snape had responded in an uneven voice. "Thank you, Mister Potter. I appreciate your honesty." He paused. "Your attitude was… understandable." Snape paused again. "My own behaviour…"

Harry had raised his hand to stop Snape from continuing. With a sympathetic glance at the older man, Harry interjected, "It's alright, Professor. I understand. Thank you." Without another word, Snape had watched the young man walk away.

Hermione's thoughts returned to the present. As she pushed her chair back and started to rise, she heard soft footsteps approaching. Her whole body tingled in recognition of that unmistakable stride: Professor Snape had re-entered the Hall, and was coming back to their table. With a trembling hand, Hermione brought the flawless rose to her face and inhaled deeply, hoping its subtle perfume might settle her racing pulse.

"Still here, Miss Granger?" Snape said gently. "You do realise the Feast is over…?"

Hermione stood up and turned to face him, her vision blurred by a veil of fresh tears.

"I was just leaving, Sir," she replied in a small voice. The realisation had struck her that, with the departure of the Hogwarts Express in the morning, she would be leaving the school, and _him_, forever.

Snape's right hand came up slowly. He traced one thin finger from Hermione's chin to the soft skin beneath her ear. Hermione blinked, her tears cascading over his hand as he cupped her cheek in his palm. Snape's voice cut through her confusion and despair, speaking words of comfort in her mind.

"_Don't cry, Hermione. It's alright."_

"I can't…" Hermione's voice caught in her throat. "I can't…leave. I love you."

With a sigh, Snape drew the trembling girl to him and held her as she sobbed uncontrollably. One of his large hands rested at the small of her back, while the other stroked her hair in a soothing rhythm. Hermione's tears gradually gave way to small hiccups and she settled down peacefully against Snape's chest. His smooth voice entered her thoughts a second time.

"_Good, that's right…just relax._ "

"_Mmmm…"_ Hermione thought, taking in the complex blend of scents and textures that enveloped her. _"He smells wonderful. Like really old books, and candle wax…and spices."_

She felt rather than heard him laugh gently. "I'm glad you approve, " he said aloud, brushing a stray tear off her cheek as he did so.

Hermione pushed slightly back from his embrace. "I sometimes forget you can tell what I'm thinking!" she said in embarrassment.

Snape's smile was just a little wicked as he replied, "Actually, not all the time. Do you remember the three essential conditions for the establishment of a Legilimency connection? "

"Proximity, " (Snape gestured at their entwined forms), "eye contact," (he looked into her slightly-reddened eyes), "and, most importantly…"

"The intended subject must be in a highly emotional or uncontrolled state!" Hermione finished with a burst of laughter. They stood in companionable silence for a few moments before Snape spoke again.

"I was going to suggest…" he hesitated for an instant, "…a walk? That is, if it's not too late for you."

Hermione's genuine smile was answer enough, and the pair headed out to the entrance hall.

Hermione was conscious of the soft, young grass under her feet, the lightly fragrant breeze coming from the nearby forest, and the whispers of their own footsteps as they crossed the lawn. She was also extremely aware of the man at her side. His light-hearted banter in the Great Hall had given way to a determined silence, and she was at a loss to explain why.

After a ten minute walk, they neared the edge of the lake. With a brief nod, Snape gestured toward a stone bench. Hermione lowered herself, being careful to preserve enough space for him to join her, as she hoped he might do. Snape remained standing, however, and after a brief time began pacing slowly in front of the former Head Girl.

"I can't begin to understand why, but you seem to have become…" he brushed back a lock of oily hair with an impatient gesture before continuing, "…_attached_ to me in some way. You need to accept that this cannot continue."

Hermione bristled slightly, irritated at the combination of conviction and self-effacement that he managed to express in so few words. "I _think_…" she began with a slight edge to her voice, "I _think_ that's rather up to _me_ to decide, isn't it?"

"I've told you before, Hermione-I am not a nice man. I meant what I said. Don't waste your attentions on someone like me."

"But why are you so determined to hate yourself?" Hermione looked up at her pale companion in confusion. "I've told you that I love you. Doesn't that count for _something_? Why are you always pushing me away?"

"You don't understand. I have done some truly horrible things..." Snape stopped pacing abruptly. "Unspeakable things. No matter what excuses I might try to make, the fact remains."

Hermione stood up. "I'm not asking you to protect me, and I don't expect you to be perfect."

She stepped closer to Snape, raising her eyes to his troubled face. "Alright. You've done some terrible things. Still, earlier tonight-with Neville, Harry and everyone-you found forgiveness in the most unlikely places."

She took his hand. "Can't you do the same for yourself? Can't you try to move past your mistakes and forgive _yourself_?"

Snape made no answer.

"It's cold," she said, shivering. "Let's go back inside."

Retaining her grasp on his hand, Hermione led him back into the castle. The entrance hall was empty and silent, and the sound of their footsteps echoed endlessly up and down the stone corridor. They passed the Great Hall, where the crystal goblets from the Leaving Feast refracted the last of the candlelight into a thousand tiny prisms.

They reached the entrance to her rooms at the base of Gryffindor tower_. "This will be a first for the Gryffindors!" _she thought in mild amusement as she uttered the password ("Zalthary Sinale!") to unlock her door. Snape's eyes twinkled in amusement. "Yes, I thought you'd appreciate that," Hermione smiled as the door creaked open and she led him into her chambers.

Once inside, Hermione's boldness suddenly deserted her. She closed the door, and was considering what to do next when a jealous Crookshanks brushed up against her shins.

"Oh! Sorry! I forgot!" she blushed, but was secretly grateful for the interruption. "I have to feed my cat. He won't give me a moment's peace until I do. Have a seat, would you? This will only take a minute." Bustling to open a can of tuna and liver for her spoiled pet gave Hermione a chance to calm her nerves.

"Umm, can I get you some tea or something?"

[LEMON AHEAD]

Snape shook his head and leaned back. When she'd finished settling Crookshanks down with his snack, Hermione walked over and stood before Snape's chair. He looked up at her through partially closed eyes, his thin lips curving into a hesitant smile. Hermione was struck by the contrast between his pale skin and the inky blackness of his eyes and hair.

"Hermione, are you sure this is what you want?" Snape asked earnestly as he leaned forward, taking her small hand in his own. "I can leave now. Just say the word."

Hermione carefully lowered herself onto his lap before answering. "_This_ is what I want," she whispered, trailing the fingers of her free hand along his forearm. "…and _this_…" she continued, leaning forward slightly to place her hand on his chest. "…and _this_…" her fingers reached up to touch the soft skin of his lower lip. "I want _you_, Severus."

With one strong arm supporting her back, Snape pulled Hermione in tight against him. He released her hand, and with the tips of his fingers traced a warm path from her temple to her lips. His mouth followed, claiming her lips in a gentle but unyielding kiss.

Hermione opened her mouth, turning her head on an angle as she ran her small tongue over his lips. Snape's mouth opened in response. She sighed and ran her tongue lightly across the overlapping planes of his teeth, savouring the mingled hints of champagne and black coffee she tasted there. His own tongue met hers at last; tentatively at first, but soon exploring her lips and mouth with a fierce abandon that took Hermione's breath away.

His left hand had returned to the side of her face; she could feel the pulse in his wrist thudding against her jaw. Breaking away from their kiss, Hermione turned her head and lightly brushed her lips against the velvety skin of his palm. She took his hand between both of her own. Snape's breath caught in his throat as she opened her mouth and began exploring the various textures of his hand with her tongue, teeth and lips. She ran her tongue along his index finger, delighting in the slightly salty taste of his skin. Looking into his dark eyes, she slowly took the tip of his finger into her mouth, raking her bottom teeth across the soft pad.

His right hand, which had been supporting Hermione's lower back, had now shifted to her hip. Hermione released his other hand, which then began a slow journey upwards from her knees, dragging the hem of her skirt with it inch by inch.

"So sweet, my love…so sweet…" he whispered as his explorations revealed the rounded creamy-white flesh of her thighs. She squirmed slightly in his lap, opening herself to his touch. Hermione's face was flushed, her eyes half-closed as she focused all her attention on his hand's progress. One long finger stretched out to trace the edge of her plain cotton knickers; Hermione started slightly at the touch before burying her face in his shoulder.

She licked her lips, remembering how that same finger had felt in her mouth only moments earlier. Her breathing was shallow and her heart beat so rapidly she wondered if she might faint. Insinuating his finger under the edge of her knickers, Severus began to gently stroke the lips of her vagina as she shuddered against him.

"Hermione, look at me." He said in a soft voice. She did not respond. "Please, love…I want to see your face."

She raised her head, looking uncertainly into his intense black eyes. As she did so, his finger moved upward until it rested with firm pressure against her clitoris. Her eyes shot open and she caught her breath in a startled gasp as the finger started moving, drawing delicious circles over that sensitive nub of flesh.

The silky voice stroked her, just as his finger did. "Do you want me, Hermione? Do you want this? Tell me."

"Yes, Severus…" she breathed, grinding against his hand as the pressure of his finger became almost unbearable. "I want…oh…oh god! I want you."

Hermione opened her mouth in frustration as his finger stopped moving. Instead of a protest however, she cried out in surprise and pleasure as he pushed that same long finger into her body. At first he kept his finger still, feeling her wet muscles clamped tightly around it. Leaning forward, he captured her mouth again in a searing kiss, then slowly he began to move his finger in and out. Moaning against his lips, Hermione twisted to face him. His thumb grazed her clitoris in time with the motions of his finger, and Hermione's breathing became erratic.

"I…I…oh, god! Yes…oh, yes!" She had started thrusting into his hand, their kiss abandoned as she struggled to find the words for what she wanted. Her own hands clutched fitfully at his long hair as she let her head drop back, her mouth forming incoherent sounds of ecstasy.

Never in her life had Hermione felt such an intense rush of pleasure. It was as if every nerve in her body was suddenly and vibrantly alive. Severus kept up the rhythmic pulse of thrust and withdrawal until Hermione's spasms had subsided. He then wrapped his arms around her, holding her trembling body against his chest as she buried her face in the rough skin at his neck. Severus rubbed his hand soothingly between Hermione's shoulder blades as her breathing returned to normal. After a few moments of inactivity, Hermione began to nuzzle her way along his jawline before planting a soft, grateful kiss on his lips. She raised her head, looking through heavy-lidded eyes at his face, with its pale skin, hooked nose and sparkling black eyes.

"Mmmm…" she purred contentedly, "You're so beautiful, Severus."

A roguish smile curved the corners of his mouth and he raised one black eyebrow sceptically. "I can't say I've ever heard _that_ assessment of my…charms before, Hermione."

Hermione began circling her hands over his thin chest. "Oh, but you _are_…truly." She felt a little apprehensive as she continued. "I've actually thought so for a long time."

She remembered the way her pulse had raced whenever he'd stood behind her in the Potions classroom, leaning over her cauldron to check on an assignment. Back then, the attraction had been comprised of equal parts respect, fear and some instinctive physical response that she could not name. She had wanted him to approach her, but she was also afraid of him doing so, and was at a loss to say why.

Now she sat straddling his lap, their faces level, their breath mingling in the cool air of her chambers. Her hands found the row of tiny, cloth-covered buttons at his collar. Slowly she started undoing them, alternating her hands' work with butterfly kisses all over his face.

"One…" she counted as the first button came undone. She gently kissed one eyebrow.

"Two…" her tongue traced along the ridges inside his ear as the second button gave way.

"Three…" she said, kissing the tip of his prominent nose as the third button yielded to her ministrations.

"Hermione…" Severus said in an amused tone, "…this is going to take all night. Not that I've any objections, mind you…"

"Hmm, yes. I see your point, Professor." Hermione replied in a parody of her famous schoolgirl pedantry. "Can you think of any way to…" she boldly reached one hand down to trail along the buttons at the front of his slacks, "…accelerate the process?"

With a low growl, Severus gathered the young woman into his arms, pressing feverish kisses along the column of her throat. "Let's move over to the bed, hmmm?" he murmured against her skin.

She stood up and held out her hands. He took them, got to his feet, and drew her towards the four-poster. Hermione was filled with an urgent need to touch smooth flesh instead of stiff black cloth. With trembling fingers she tore at the buttons on his frock coat, her impatience drawing a warm chuckle from his lips. He began to help her, and with practiced ease, managed to free the last button.

Hermione purred in appreciation at the feel of his warm skin against her hands. Her lips followed, leaving a hot wet trail from the base of his throat across one collarbone, then across the other. Her hands explored the muscles of his chest, his ribcage, and the thin line of hair that trailed from his abdomen downwards. Following the same path with her lips, Hermione gradually sank to her knees, until her tongue was worrying the coarse black hair just above the waistband of his trousers.

Severus was suddenly very still. Hermione paused for an instant, her hands resting on his thin hips for balance. She looked up, a question on her lips, and saw that he was staring intently down at her. Still looking into his eyes, she moved her hands to the buttons at the front of his trousers and began unfastening them.

She was a little surprised when her hand brushed along the inside of his fly. She had rather expected to encounter another layer of material, but instead found only skin.

"Oh my!" she said on an in drawn breath. She paused, watching in fascination as Severus' right hand came down to join her own, while the thumb of his left hand gently traced her mouth, coaxing her lips open with gentle pressure. She sucked his thumb greedily into her mouth, making delighted little sounds in her throat at the mingled taste of his sweat and her own climax from a few moments earlier. She could feel herself becoming moist again, and wondered vaguely if she could ever be in the same room with him and _not_ become instantly aroused.

Working together, they released the last of the buttons on his trousers. He guided her hands inside, thrilled by the feel of her small, cold fingers against the base of his erection. Not wanting to push her too fast, he removed his own hand, easing his slacks lower until they fell to his feet in a black pool. Severus removed his thumb from her mouth and watched as Hermione gently took his hard penis in one hand. A drop of moisture formed at the tip; Hermione used her thumb to spread it over the head and down under the shaft. Surprisingly, she lifted that same thumb to her mouth and licked it, smiling up at him as she found the taste very much to her liking.

"Oh God, Hermione…!" Severus said in a shaky voice.

Not waiting for any further encouragement, the young woman placed one hand behind his hip and used the other to guide his penis into her warm, wet mouth.

His cock was large, and her first attempt at taking the whole length at once brought up a slight gag reflex. She managed to ignore it however, and was soon alternating firm tongue pressure along the shaft and around the head with taking it in deep strokes all the way to the back of her mouth. Her right hand toyed gently with his testicles, cupping them, rubbing along the base of his penis with her thumb, and stroking the soft skin that seemed to respond to her every movement. She was definitely very wet now, and wondered if she might climax again, just through the excitement of giving him pleasure.

The sensation of having his penis in her mouth was absolutely wonderful. The silky skin along the shaft moved slightly as her lips and tongue traced its length. The large, rounded head was smooth, and Hermione felt a special thrill as she pressed her tongue to the opening at the tip and felt it yield to the slight pressure.

There was definitely a new element to his taste now, too. If anything, the saltiness and musky maleness she'd first sensed as she had taken him in was increasing. Severus had moved both his hands to the sides of her face and was rubbing her temples with a steady rhythm. His hips began to buck forward in the same rhythm, and Hermione encouraged his movements by bringing both hands behind his hips.

"I'm…I'm going to…" Severus moaned, looking down at Hermione's face.

She tried to convey reassurance, thinking "_I want you to. Please, my love_."

She sucked as hard as she could, feeling her mouth fill with pulse after pulse of hot, thick liquid. Severus made as if to pull away, but Hermione held him in place with her hands, wanting to take every last bit of his semen. When he was finished, she released his cock and swallowed, wiping the traces of his seed from the corners of her mouth with one trembling hand. Severus kneeled down in front of her, with a look of such wonder and love in his eyes that Hermione cried out and threw her arms around him, wanting to remember this moment forever.

They embraced for several minutes, heedless of the cool air of the room and the rough stone beneath their knees. Hermione's heart soared. All of the worry, pain and fear of the past year was gone, replaced by this one blissful moment of truth. She loved him, and now she knew that he loved her, too.

Severus stood up slowly, careful to support Hermione's smaller frame as he helped her to her feet. Hermione, realising that the cold air would soon become a problem, picked up her wand and lit the fire ("_Incendio_!"). Severus smiled in acknowledgement before placing his hands on her shoulders to guide her to the bed.

He encouraged her to sit on the edge of the four-poster while he removed his shoes and the rest of his clothing. Hermione got a quick glimpse of his pale, thin body before he joined her on the bed, moving around to straddle her hips from behind.

"Have I ever told you…" he said in his silkiest voice, "…how magnificent your hair is?"

His long fingers reached up to untie the soft ribbon that held her hair back from her face. With both hands, he combed through the mass of brown curls, letting them fall against the bare skin of his chest with obvious relish. Gently gathering her long hair in one hand, he drew it over to one side and let its weight carry it, like a waterfall of chocolate, over her right shoulder.

Her eyelids fluttered closed at the touch of hot breath against her neck as his tongue tasted the soft skin there.

"Hmmm!" he murmured playfully. "She tastes of vanilla, and…" again, his tongue made her shiver as he traced along one tendon, "orange blossoms, and I _think_…" he sucked languidly at the side of her throat, "yes, definitely. A very fine, dry sherry."

"So you're a poet now too, are you?" she chided, reaching behind her to capture his hand and bring it forward.

Weaving her fingers through his, she brought their joined hands to her chest. She was still fully clothed, but it had suddenly become very important to feel those long fingers on her body again. He raised his other hand and began tracing feather light touches along the underside of her breasts.

Her own hands came down to the hem of her skirt, which she raised until her knickers were exposed. As he drew his fingers in ever-tightening circles around her nipples, Hermione stroked herself through the wet cloth of her knickers. Seeing this amazing girl touch herself in time with the movement of his own hands brought blood back to his groin, and Severus wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her sweet, tight warmth.

"Hermione, let me make love to you." He said in an unsteady voice, removing his hands from her breasts to begin urgently undoing the buttons at the back of her dress. Hermione shuddered and moved her fingers under her knickers, where she began stroking herself more quickly.

"Yes, Severus. Oh, please…please make love to me."

He had freed the last of the buttons, and with her help, pulled the dress over her head to drop it on the floor. Her knickers, bra and shoes soon met the same fate, and Hermione sat with her arms crossed in front of her breasts, a little shy at being so abruptly unclothed in front of her former Professor. He came around to kneel in front of her, using gentle pressure to encourage her to lie back while he positioned himself between her thighs.

"Don't hide yourself, love. Don't be afraid." He said softly, taking her hands away and kissing them lightly before moving them aside.

His breath caught in his throat at his first sight of Hermione, naked and spread before him, the fire dappling her smooth young skin with a pattern of shadow and light. His gaze took in her pale shell-coloured nipples and the smooth swell of small breasts before traveling lower to rest on the patch of curly dark hair nestled between her thighs. She was all curves and silk, and he vowed to taste and feel every inch of that perfect body before the night was over.

Hermione looked up at her lover; at the intense expression in his eyes, the way his thin chest rose and fell with each breath, and the line of hair that lead down to his crotch. His penis was hard again. She thrilled at the realisation that he wanted her, and she felt a mixture of awe and timid pride that it should be so.

Severus leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own, urgently thrusting his tongue between her teeth to taste the sweetness of her breath mixed with a hint of semen that lingered from her earlier efforts. Hermione brushed one hand through the oily hair that blanketed their faces while her other hand reached down to grasp his penis. He pulled away from the kiss, looking questioningly into her eyes. She answered the unspoken question by raising her hips, using her free hand to spread herself open, and placing the tip of his now leaking cock against her entrance.

Needing no more encouragement, Severus pushed forward gently, feeling her tight walls clamp down on his penis, one slow inch at a time. Hermione had a look of intense concentration on her face, her small tongue darting out to moisten her own lips as he continued.

"Ahh…ahhh…" her breath came out in little gasps as she felt the incredible fullness, almost to the point of an ache, spread through her. He was big, and no matter how ready she had felt, this first time must involve some pain as she stretched to accommodate him.

Severus paused, holding himself steady as he waited for Hermione to relax. He took the opportunity to suck lightly on first one, then the other of her perfect nipples, bringing them to hard little peaks with his tongue and teeth. She gasped, and when he looked back into her eyes, she smiled encouragingly.

Again, Severus pushed slowly forward, thinking he would go mad from the desire to plunge in deeply, again and again. Hermione gave no hint of discomfort, however, and with a great feeling of relief, Severus buried himself fully inside her. Hermione's eyes widened as Severus pulled out and thrust back in again, this time stronger and faster. Her hands came up to clutch at the nape of his neck, and she held on for dear life as he rocked hard against her body, bringing heat and friction to her in the most intimate way imaginable.

She was suddenly aware of a new feeling building inside her. The harder he pumped, the more she wanted to open for him, to draw him in. She looked at his face; the expression of desire and pleasure she found there was enough to send her into climax, and she rode wave after wave of sensation as her muscles contracted around his ever-moving cock.

Severus had been holding back, but when he heard Hermione's sharp intake of breath and felt her first spasms, he buried himself deep inside her. His own release came soon after.

Much later, the two new lovers lay peacefully entwined beneath the heavy duvet on Hermione's bed. By the utter silence that reigned in the castle, Severus guessed the time to be somewhere approaching dawn. He had slept soundly for hours with his arms wrapped around the petite frame of his former student. The sound of her breathing was like a lullaby to his ears.

By the faint light of the dying fire, he watched her eyelids flutter as she lay dreaming. She looked so angelic…so young… Severus felt a sudden surge of guilt at the memories of only a few hours ago. Shouldn't her first lover have been someone close to her own age? What right did he, a man with such a dubious past, have to claim something so precious as this girl's innocence?

Hermione's small, rounded lips were parted slightly. _"At least her dreams are happy,"_ Severus mused, watching her mouth curl up in a small smile. He gave in to the sudden desire to trace their fullness with one trembling finger. Her smile widened, and she slowly opened her eyes to look at the man lying beside her.

"Hello, my love," she purred dreamily. "Not sleeping?" Hermione stretched like a cat. "Mmm… I've never been awakened quite so pleasantly before…"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to wake you." Severus made to pull back, but Hermione grasped his hand and snuggled in closer against his lean body.

"Oh no you don't…" she teased, "You're not going anywhere!"

She trapped his thin thigh between her own. The combination of warmth, softness and gentle pressure she exerted was incredibly arousing; he could feel his rapidly hardening cock pressing into the supple flesh of her stomach. Hermione dropped his hand and stroked the length of his penis languidly as she continued.

"You really _are_ amazing." Hermione said in an awe-filled voice as she surveyed the lean muscles of his arms and chest.

She leaned in and kissed his throat, loving the rough feel of his morning stubble against her lips. His penis was rock hard now, and Hermione felt a thrill of anticipation run through her.

"Mmm…" she murmured against his skin, "Could we make love again?"

Severus lowered the covers and looked at Hermione's ivory coloured skin. His right hand traced a path from her lips to her throat, grazing one ripe breast before trailing across her flat belly, then resting in the hairs at her pubic bone.

"You only have to ask, beloved," he replied in his softest voice before moving on top of her.

"I think…" Hermione began with a sleepy smile, "I'd like to try something different this time, Severus. If you don't mind…?" She squirmed a little and he eased up, leaning back against his left elbow as he wondered what she had in mind.

Hermione gently pushed his right shoulder back down against the mattress before rolling on top of him. The pressure of his penis against her belly was lovely-when she moved even the slightest bit, a delicious sensation of warmth radiated through her. She could feel her own moisture spreading, remembering the feel of his hard cock inside her.

He caught her waist in his large hands, raising her up slightly and encouraging her legs open with one knee. She took the hint and was soon straddling him, her weight supported on both her arms. She moved higher on the bed, so now the soft head of his penis was positioned against her pubic bone.

With one hand, he gently spread her labia, causing her to catch her breath sharply, her eyelids fluttering closed at his touch. He guided his penis to her opening. She dropped her body sharply against his, taking the full length of him inside in her in a single breath taking thrust. Her eyes popped open, her mouth forming a perfect little "o". After a moment of absolute stillness, she rose slowly before dropping hard again, savouring the sweet friction as his erection stroked every inch of her vagina.

As her movements built into a steady rhythm, Severus raised himself up on his elbows and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. He matched her movements-as she rose, his tongue played with the supple flesh of her breast, and as she dropped, his teeth bit lightly on that perfect nipple. The pull of his teeth sent delicious tingles from her nipple to her breast; Hermione licked her suddenly dry lips, shuddering at the sensation.

"Aaah god…" Hermione whispered, closing her eyes again and allowing her head to drop back. "Severus… oh…my love…"

Her movements starting coming faster and more erratically. Severus could feel her moisture coating his shaft, drizzling slowly down over his balls, hips and thighs. He struggled to hold himself back as he watched this beautiful girl impale herself on him. He moved his attentions to her other breast, again matching her thrusts with his lips, tongue and teeth.

Soon she was riding him with wild abandon, her long brown hair tickling his legs as she drove again and again down the length of his penis. The combination of sensations was almost too much for Severus; the incredible feeling of her tight, wet pussy clutching his cock, the sound of her ragged breathing and the sight of her sweet face contorted in pleasure threatened to drive him over the edge.

"I…I'm…" she murmured breathlessly, "Oh…oh god…I'm…_coming_…Severusss…" Her walls clamped down almost painfully against his cock as she came. She leaned forward and looked at him with huge eyes, her hair tumbling forward to veil their faces as he felt his own orgasm begin.

**[LEMON OVERRR!]**

Morning was well established when Hermione awoke again. The room's only other occupant was Crookshanks, but a note in Severus' spiky handwriting lay on her bedside table. Basically it stated that he loved her, but they had to be discret and not spring it upon everyone, amd that he would be in touch later that evening if possible.

With a sigh, Hermione acknowledged the wisdom of his going. She realised that few of her friends would accept or approve of their relationship. Severus was right, of course-best let them hear about it gradually instead of having it thrust upon them by the sight of Hermione's former Professor leaving her bedroom at eight o'clock on a summer morning.

Hermione had fed Crookshanks, showered, and was combing through her wet hair when the image of a very familiar blue book appeared in her mind. She focused on opening the book, holding back her surprise that Severus would bother encoding a Legilimency message to her at this hour.

_"The Death Eaters are here. Warn the students. I have informed Dumbledore, and will contact the Order."_

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. The Hogwarts Express was due to leave Hogsmeade Station in just over an hour. Apparently the Death Eaters planned their attack to take advantage of the disorder and commotion as hundreds of children readied themselves for the journey home.

Hermione quickly composed a mental transmission, sending it to the eighteen students who had participated in that year's Advanced Legilimency training:

_"Death Eaters in castle. Keep students in common rooms. Notify me of any suspicious activity in your area."_

To Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville, Hermione sent the following addendum:

_"Dumbledore and Snape already aware of attack. Tell other teachers. Meet in Room of Requirement in fifteen minutes. Use Disillusionment Charm. Stay out of sight!"_

Though the stone floors were unpleasantly cold, stealth dictated bare feet as Hermione tiptoed to the door. She picked up her wand and cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on herself. Then, inch by slow inch, she opened the heavy door, peeking out into the hallway for any signs of movement. Bright summer sunlight flooded through the mullioned windows, illuminating the strangely empty corridor. Holding her breath, Hermione ventured from her room.

Detecting a very faint rustling sound coming from the Great Hall, Hermione crept silently forward. She was grateful for her mastery of the Disillusionment Charm, since she would appear to be nothing more than part of one great wooden door as she observed the room's occupants.

Six black cloaked and hooded figures were gathered in a far corner of the room. Hermione saw their eyes glittering through slits in their masks and heard a faint whisper of subdued voices. She suppressed a shiver of terror, remembering her last encounter with a group of Voldemort's most loyal followers.

Most were watching and listening intently to one tall, central figure as he gestured to individuals and pairs in turn. While unable to make out their words, Hermione guessed they were coordinating their assault. There was something disturbingly familiar in the eager acquiescence of one Death Eater on the outskirts of the group, but Hermione didn't stop to ponder this fact as she quietly raced to her rendezvous in the Room of Requirement.

Pacing back and forth in the seventh-floor hallway, Hermione thought desperately, _"We need to plan our defense. Don't let them find us here!" _

At her third pass, the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. With a quick glance over her shoulder, Hermione entered the room and shut the door behind her.

Shedding her Disillusionment Charm, she looked around to find the room full of anxious students. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville had taken it upon themselves to invite the remaining fourteen students from their Legilimency sessions. The door to the room opened once more, and a very grave-looking Minerva McGonagall entered.

Hermione described the scene in the Great Hall. Several people expressed relief at how few Death Eaters were inside the castle, but Professor McGonagall cautioned them against becoming complacent. No matter how well-trained the defenders were in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the skill and ruthlessness of the Death Eaters was not something to be taken lightly.

The Headmaster had given Professor McGonagall very clear instructions on how to proceed with the castle's defense. As their top priority was the safety of the students, Dumbledore had deemed it best to secure the House common rooms first.

Two representatives from each House were to return to their common rooms, where they were to ensure all students were safely inside, change their portrait's access password to one designated by the Headmaster, and await further instructions from either Dumbledore or the Head of their respective House.

Zacharias Smith and Hannah Abbott quickly Disillusioned themselves and rushed off to Hufflepuff House, while Michael Corner and Terry Boot made their invisible way back to Ravenclaw Tower. Colin and Dennis Creevey assumed the responsibility for safeguarding their fellow Gryffindors, and Kerry made to return to the Slytherin common room alone.

"Professor, I'm going with Kerry," Neville announced as he moved to join her. "She's the only Slytherin here, and I won't have her walking the halls alone." Professor McGonagall nodded, and Neville and Kerry Disillusioned themselves again before heading silently down to the dungeons together.

Ginny and Dean Thomas volunteered to retrieve Hagrid from his cabin and bring him along to shore up the castle's defenses. McGonagall informed the remaining students that their goal was only to contain the Death Eaters in the Great Hall until Professors Snape and Dumbledore arrived with the other Order members.

After performing the Disillusionment Charm on themselves again, the group split into pairs and headed cautiously back downstairs. Luna and Ron were set to guard the back entrance into the Great Hall. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Anthony Goldstein kept a lookout on one set of doors from the main hall, while Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones guarded the remaining entrance.

With her heart in her throat, Hermione joined Harry and Professor McGonagall as they crept into the Great Hall, hoping to get close enough to the Death Eaters to overhear their plans.

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Confrontation**

Professor McGonagall, Harry and Hermione stole cautiously along one wall until they were quite close to the eager Death Eater Hermione had observed earlier. The group's leader was still talking; Hermione recognised Lucius Malfoy's lazy drawl and realised with horror that he anticipated the arrival of reinforcements.

"Once the recruits have secured the Slytherin common room, I want Travers and Flint to cut off the approaches from the other dormitories. Don't hesitate to kill anyone who gets in your way-teacher or student. Is that clear?" Two cloaked figures on the far side of the group nodded briefly. "It is imperative that the Great Hall be kept open for when the others arrive."

Hermione would have sworn that something like a collective shiver passed through the forms of the Death Eaters. Whoever "the others" were, they were apparently just as unpopular amongst Voldemort's followers as they were sure to be amongst the castle's defenders.

The enthusiastic young Death Eater close to Hermione cleared his throat before brushing a bit of lint off his hooded black robe.

"_Oh no! Percy?"_ Hermione thought, recognising his finicky gesture. _"I knew money and power were important to him, but this…this will __kill__ Ron and Ginny!" _

Two more dark figures entered the room. Remus Lupin, his hands bound behind his back, preceded a seventh hooded, cloaked and masked figure into the Great Hall. The newly-arrived Death Eater held a long ebony wand in one hand and the loose end of Lupin's bonds in the other. Hermione recognised the distinctive walk of Severus Snape and saw the glitter of black eyes behind his mask. She quickly encoded a short message and sent it to both Lupin and Snape.

" _I'm here with McGonagall and Harry. We have guards at the doors. The Death Eaters are expecting reinforcements. Percy Weasley has joined them." _

Almost instantly, the image of Dumbledore offering a sherbet lemon appeared in Hermione's consciousness. She mentally accepted the sweet, and heard Severus' voice in her mind.

"_Percy sent his parents an owl warning of a Death Eater attack at the Ministry. Everyone at Order headquarters went there to head them off. We will not be getting any help for quite some time, however Remus and I have a plan." _

"**Ahh, Severus!" Lucius Malfoy said condescendingly. "Good of you to join us…finally. I was beginning to think that mudblood-lover Dumbledore had finally won you over." **

"Unfortunately, Lucius…" came Severus' cool reply, "not everyone has the luxury of infinite leisure time." Hermione guessed that, under his mask, Severus' black eyebrow was halfway up his pale forehead. "Besides, I brought a little something extra to the party. Don't you think the Dark Lord will be pleased when he sees my gift?"

Just then, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson sauntered lazily into the Great Hall, leading the horizontally floating figures of Neville and Kerry after them. The large lumpy shapes of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle shuffled in behind Neville and Kerry.

"Look what we caught sneaking into the Slytherin common room, Father!" Draco boasted.

Lucius nodded to Percy, who strode haughtily over to the younger group and took control of their hostages.

"_Ron, no!"_ Hermione thought as she heard a sharp intake of breath from the back doorway. Ron had obviously recognised his brother, and in his shock, had disclosed his presence.

"We seem to have an uninvited guest." Lucius Malfoy said, gesturing to the doorway that Ron and Luna were guarding. "I suggest you reveal yourself now, unless the thought of these two being tortured…" Lucius turned back to Kerry and Neville, "appeals to you."

Hermione quickly sent a coded message to the others to stay hidden, and watched with a lump in her throat as Ron's tall form became visible. He stood in the doorway with his wand held tightly against his chest, his eyes fixed on his brother.

"Where are your pals now, Weasel?" Draco Malfoy's mocking voice echoed through the Great Hall. "Skulking around Gryffindor tower? Letting you do all the dirty work? Or did you think you'd try playing hero all by yourself?"

"Be quiet, Draco." Lucius said in a dangerous voice. "There may be more here than meets the eye."

Lucius sneered as he continued, "Weasley…dear me, this _is_ becoming difficult, isn't it? I mean the elder Weasley—_convince _your sibling to tell us where his two little friends are."

Percy spoke at last. "You would have done well to take my advice and separate yourself from this rabble years ago, little brother." Striding over to where Ron stood, Percy raised his wand with a cruel smile on his face.

Hermione quickly composed and encoded another Legilimency message to her friends.

"_At the count of three, banish all of the plates, goblets and cutlery toward the Death Eaters." _

With a twinge of guilt, Hermione realised that she could not warn Severus or Remus, since any indication that they knew what was happening would jeopardise their plan. She would just have to trust to their instincts to help them avoid injury.

Just as Percy opened his mouth to utter the Cruciatus curse, Hermione issued her mental command.

"_One…two…three….NOW!" _

Like golden Frisbees, plates and enormous platters soared towards the small group of Death Eaters, forcing them to duck their heads in confusion. Forks, spoons and knives filled the air; Severus got a vicious scratch across one cheek as he failed to dodge a table knife. Pitchers filled with the morning's pumpkin juice emptied themselves over the heads of stunned-looking Death Eaters.

In the resulting confusion, Hermione, Harry and Professor McGonagall hurried to counter the spells that immobilised the captives. Ron shoved Percy aside before running over to help.

Snape was also busy. He discretely loosened the bonds on Lupin's wrists and slipped the wizard's wand back into his hand before resuming his former pose as captor.

Draco, in his rush to get away from the flying tableware, tripped over Harry's unseen foot. The Death Eaters that Lucius Malfoy had earlier called Flint and Travers both noticed this, and blindly grabbed at Harry.

Seeing the pair struggle with an invisible foe, Lucius quickly cast the charm to undo Harry's Disillusionment. "Ahh, another welcome addition to our little party!" Lucius drawled, his cold eyes taking in the scrawny form of the seventeen year old. "The Dark Lord will be very pleased to find you waiting for him, Potter. _Very_ pleased…"

Though he struggled, Harry was certainly no match for the two grown wizards who continued to pummel him even as Lucius spoke.

A loud crash from the hallway drew everyone's attention to the main entrance. A furious-looking Hagrid lumbered into the room, followed by the towering form of his half-brother, Grawp. Although she couldn't see them, Hermione hoped that Ginny and Dean had returned as well in their Disillusioned state.

Hagrid seized the nearest House table and took a swipe at Travers as if he were swinging a bat. The Death Eater shrieked as he was thrown against the hard stone wall before crumpling, unconscious, to the floor. Flint was quickly dispatched in a similar manner before Hagrid and Grawp plodded menacingly toward the remaining Death Eaters.

The defenders' euphoria over the arrival of reinforcements was soon overwhelmed by a sense of dread, however. Utter silence had abruptly fallen over the castle. The Great Hall, which had sparkled with bright sunlight, was suddenly dark. Everyone shivered uncontrollably as a chill breeze sucked all the warmth out of the summer air.

Having encountered Dementors before, both Harry and Hermione knew what was coming next. At least thirty of the evil creatures were gliding into the room from all the doorways, making horrid rattling sounds as they closed in on their victims with a repulsive eagerness. Persistent thoughts of death and loss—the memory of losing her grandfather to cancer two years earlier, her aching loneliness at the start of her first year at Hogwarts—washed over Hermione like a tidal wave of grief. Logically, she knew that this was to be expected in the presence of the Dementors, yet Hermione still struggled with the urge to give up and surrender to her misery.

At the very centre of the Head Table, the darkness was giving way to a sickly greenish glow. Suddenly, in a puff of black smoke, the deathly pale form of Lord Voldemort appeared, seated casually in the Headmaster's chair.

Voldemort surveyed the assembled combatants with cruel amusement in his snakelike eyes, as his cold high voice cut through the silence like a poisoned dagger. "We've let the children play long enough, I think."

With a single wave of Voldemort's wand, Hagrid and Grawp dropped heavily to the floor, where they lay absolutely still. With another flick of his wand, the Dark Lord revealed all of the remaining defenders. Hermione found herself staring into the stern face of Professor McGonagall, whose lips were compressed into a determined line. Ginny, Dean, Luna, Ron, Kerry, Neville, Justin, Anthony, Ernie and Susan stood scattered around the Hall, all with looks of horror in their young eyes.

Harry, who had been standing closest to Hermione, went suddenly rigid. The Death Eaters laughed as Voldemort, with a bored expression, levitated the young man to the front of the room before dropping his paralysed body unceremoniously on the Head Table.

The Boy Who Lived lay on his back before the Dark Lord, looking like some perverse sacrifice on the altar of Satan himself. Hermione and the other defenders looked on helplessly as Voldemort slowly rose to leer over his victim.

The Death Eaters, who had observed a silence bordering on reverence since the arrival of their Lord, suddenly leapt into action. They attacked the castle's inhabitants viciously, pushing their advantage while Harry's friends were distracted.

Bellatrix Lestrange, her eyes alight with a feverish gleam, rushed at Professor McGonagall. The older woman was ready, however. With a calm sweep of her wand, Minerva deflected the pulse of purple energy that the Death Eater had sent straight at her heart. Professor McGonagall stayed quite still as Bellatrix continued her rabid assault; it was obvious that her calm demeanor was enraging the Death Eater even further. Hermione recognised the wisdom in this—the more Bellatrix flailed about trying to provoke a reaction out of the other witch, the more she tired herself out and depleted her own magical energy.

Nearby, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin were battling. While Remus had the advantage of height, Pettigrew's incredibly strong silver hand represented a formidable weapon in its own right. Remus recognised this too, and danced around the perimeter of the room, shooting stunning spells at the smaller man while staying out of Pettigrew's grasp.

Lucius Malfoy advanced menacingly on a group of three defenders; Neville, Dean, and Anthony stood with their backs together and wands outstretched, but Hermione knew they were likely no match for the older man. Sure enough, each attempt made to disarm or jinx Malfoy was turned back against the trio. Dean collapsed onto the ground in uncontrollable laughter as Malfoy deflected Neville's rictusempra at him. Anthony's legs jerked suddenly and violently out from underneath him as his own tarantallegra jinx rebounded.

In a far corner, Kerry, Justin, Ernie and Susan were surrounded by at least twenty Dementors. Wisps of silver mist shone briefly in the sickly forms of animals as the group tried desperately to ward off the Dementors with the Patronus Charm. It looked as if they were weakening , however—each successive burst of silvery-white mist was smaller and less well-defined than the one that had come before it.

Hermione caught a glimpse of Ron rushing at Percy. Percy's cold smile seemed locked on his face as he calmly pointed his wand at a shrieking, writhing Luna. Ron's back was turned away from the main group, so he did not see Lucius Malfoy's wand pointed at him.

Several things happened at once. Malfoy opened his mouth, shouting "Avada Kedavra!" just as Neville dove forward, catching the elder wizard across the shins and knocking him to the floor. The jet of green light that shot out of Lucius' wand did not strike Ron, as he had intended. Disrupted by the force of Neville's attack, the magical energy bounced off the Hall's charmed ceiling and struck Percy squarely in the back.

Percy dropped instantly to the floor, his dead eyes frozen in an expression of mild surprise. Ron looked dazedly from Percy to Luna, then back again. Luna took Ron's hand in hers, a single tear trickling down her cheek as she led him away from the body of his older brother.

**Chapter Twenty-Six: The Purest Heart**

Harry lay face up, his arms rigidly at his sides. In a parody of a caress, Voldemort stroked the young man's hair as tears formed in Harry's brilliant green eyes.

"Yes, Harry…that's it. Feed me your pain. I want to taste all of it…" The colourless tip of Voldemort's snakelike tongue flicked out to sample the icy air. "Ahh, delicious! I can't remember ever enjoying a feast this much."

Voldemort traced a single finger across the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead, laughing softly. Pulses of white hot fire traveled from Voldemort's corpse-like finger through Harry's skin, searing his flesh, splintering his bones, and turning his own blood into poison.

Taking advantage of Voldemort's distraction, Snape crept around the table's left side. Hermione approached from the front, hoping to distract the Dark Lord so that Severus could get close enough to stun him. As she moved, Hermione sent a constant stream of comforting messages to Harry through their Legilimency link.

_"Harry, don't listen to him. You have friends who love you. Don't give in, Harry." _

Harry did not respond. An overwhelming sense of misery had clamped down over his heart, leaving him weak and aching. Voldemort, however, heard Hermione's thoughts and chose to use them as a further weapon against his captive.

"How touching!" he mocked, a flame of malevolent laughter widening the slitted pupils of his eyes. "Your friends _love_ you. Let's put that to the test, shall we?" Voldemort raised his wand. In an amused voice, he murmured _"Crucio!"_ as a bolt of energy leapt from his wand and struck Hermione in the chest.

The pain was far worse than anything Hermione had ever known. It was so intense that it made her forget who she was and what she was doing. She knew nothing…she _was_ nothing. The only reality now was this unendurable agony.

Lowering his wand, the Dark Lord spoke again. "Do you like watching your friends suffer, Potter? Will they continue to stand by you, once they see there is real pain involved?"

Voldemort's words forced Harry to relive the feeling of abandonment and loss he'd first experienced upon learning of his parents' true fate. The memory of Sirius Black's pointless death two years earlier tore at Harry's gentle heart. The guilt Harry felt was almost overwhelming-he had never forgiven himself for involving Sirius in the battle at the Ministry of Magic.

Forgetting her own safety for the moment, an alarmed Hermione spoke to her friend again, this time out loud. "Harry, listen to me. Don't let him do this. You can fight it. You have to. We need you, Harry…please!"

Despite her heartening words, Hermione's own spirit began to falter. How could such a small group possibly hope to succeed against Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and the insidious effects of the Dementors?

Looking around her, Hermione saw signs everywhere that the battle was nearly lost. Severus was now only a few feet from Voldemort, and had raised his wand. Strong as he was, Hermione had to admit that Severus stood no chance of surviving a duel with the Dark Lord. From the resolute look on his face, she could see that Severus realised this as well.

Tearing her eyes from her lover's pale face, Hermione saw that everyone in the small group beset by the Dementors had fallen to their knees. A Dementor was using one grotesque, scabby claw to open Justin's mouth in anticipation of administering the Kiss.

Across the room, Ginny was desperately trying to undo Anthony and Ernie's hexes, while Neville and Dean struggled to defend themselves against Lucius, Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle.

Minerva McGonagall and Bellatrix Lestrange were still battling furiously. Lupin had fallen, and Pettigrew advanced upon him with a sickening look of triumph in his beady black eyes. The green glow surrounding the Dark Lord cast ghastly shadows around the Hall.

This was it, then. This was the way their world would end-in darkness and misery. What hope was left? Who could save them?

In despair, Hermione raised her tear-clouded eyes to the ceiling.

Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of warm golden light at the extreme left of her field of vision. Dashing her tears away, Hermione blinked and turned her head slightly to the left, hoping to find the source of the new light.

At the same time, a hint of eerily beautiful music seeped into her consciousness. This was not music that she "heard" through her ears; rather, it seemed that her own heart was singing in joyous response to something…something far too beautiful to be named.

None of the other castle defenders had sensed this change yet, however. With what felt like the last of her strength, Hermione sent a message through the Legilimency link.

_"Hold on! Don't give up! Help is coming!"_

The song that had been growing inside Hermione's heart was met by a new music which seemed to come from the very stones of the castle itself. The tune was different-more familiar and less surreal-yet the two synchronised beautifully. They met and intertwined, weaving into a delightful, soaring blend of melody and harmony.

As if they had been petrified, both sides of the battle froze in place. Even Voldemort paused in his persecution of Harry, a look of fear and suspicion crossing his inhuman features.

The soothing golden light that had first caught Hermione's eye grew brighter. For a moment, it seemed to do battle with the sickly greenish hue of Voldemort's corpse-light, but it was only a matter of time before the entire room was awash in brilliant whitish-golden light. The darkness was banished, and the assembled Dementors drifted off, shriveled into themselves, to cower in the few remaining shadows left by the standing furniture.

As the room filled with bright sunlight, the same delicious, Spring-like scent that Hermione had first smelled in the Tapestry Room came washing over the Great Hall in a delightful breeze. All the while, the intricately woven song continued, building in volume until the Great Hall rang and echoed with the sweetness of its melody.

Where she had been ready to admit defeat just a few moments earlier, Hermione was now filled with an incredible warmth, gladness and joy. It was as if she had been bedridden with some lingering disease for many months, then suddenly awakened one sunny morning to find herself in perfect health again.

If she'd been able, she would have danced through the Hall and out into the school grounds, running across green fields to celebrate. As it was, she looked eagerly around her, catching Severus' twinkling black gaze with her own smiling eyes and singing heart.

A flash of crimson and gold streaked along the ceiling as Fawkes the Phoenix soared into the room, his customary quick pace apparently unhindered by the length of cloth he carried. Hermione recognised it at once; it was the linen from the Tapestry Room. Fawkes completed one entire circuit of the Hall before dropping the cloth down the centre aisle at a right angle to the Head Table.

Fawkes perched regally on the back of the Headmaster's chair, and Hermione caught a glimpse of something round and colourful in his beak. With a piercingly high note, Fawkes flipped the object into the air. It traced a rainbow-hued arch as it dropped towards the surface of the Head Table, stopping to hover inches above Harry's inert form.

The pebble-sized object began to shudder violently as dazzling prisms of colour exploded from within it. Streaks of colour followed erratic paths around the room, behaving very much like bumblebees in search of nectar. They criss-crossed, weaving a brilliant spider's web in front of the combatants' stunned faces.

In the very centre of the Hall, several of the rainbow threads collided and came to a halt. More and more threads joined in, until all were bound into a single kaleidoscopic knot. The knot began to stretch, becoming wide enough for a man to pass through, and lengthening until it reached from floor to ceiling. The striking form of a tall man dressed in pure white robes appeared, stepping from the coloured light into the stillness of the room.

If she had not known Albus Dumbledore to be a profoundly gentle soul, Hermione would have fallen to her knees in fear and reverence. Never before had she seen the Headmaster look so powerful. All signs of age and weariness had left him, leaving nothing but the essence of this Great Wizard.

Voldemort released his breath in a long, slow hiss before pushing himself back from the Head Table. The ghost of a smile twisted at the corners of his lipless mouth, while his eyes traveled leisurely up and down the form of his rival.

"Dumbledore…" came the high, cold voice, "I wondered when you would join us."

"Tom." Dumbledore said simply, taking a step closer to his enemy.

Hermione's knees trembled as she backed away. She wondered how Voldemort could stand to look into Dumbledore's blazing blue eyes. Though he was not even looking at her, she felt waves of energy radiating from the Great Wizard as he approached the Head Table.

Dumbledore spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You shouldn't be here, Tom."

"You think not?" Voldemort's laugh echoed around the stone walls. "Oh, I've waited quite long enough for this moment, Dumbledore." He smiled evilly as he looked down at Harry's tear-stained face.

Addressing himself to Harry now, the Dark Lord's voice dropped to a bone-chilling hiss. "You want this to end now, don't you, boy?" Voldemort placed one long, skeletally-thin hand along each side of Harry's head as he brought his own face down to stare, unblinking, into the young man's eyes.

The pain in Harry's head erupted with renewed violence as he struggled to retain some grasp on his sanity. _"Please, please…let it end." _Harry thought desperately. _"If I have to die, then let me die."_

Dumbledore had reached the Head Table. Facing the former Tom Riddle with only Harry between them, the Headmaster looked fearlessly into the red eyes of his opponent. Still unable to move, Harry could see Dumbledore's imposing form towering over him, looking both ageless and as ancient as the stars themselves.

"Your coming here was a mistake, Tom." Though he spoke softly, Dumbledore's voice carried into every corner of the Great Hall. "You know as well as I do that the castle has ways of protecting itself and its own, should a threat arise."

The Death Eaters all looked quickly around them as if they expected the very walls of the castle to attack. Voldemort, however, merely laughed before replying.

"As you may recall, Dumbledore, I am one of 'Hogwarts' own'. Or did you conveniently forget the seven years I spent under your watchful eye all those long years ago?"

The Headmaster spoke again. "Yet there are other things-deeper magic-that you do NOT know of. The famous prophecy for example…the one you were so eager to retrieve a mere two years ago…"

"Are we back to _that_, then? Surely you have something more relevant to discuss." Voldemort's voice echoed shrilly around the room. "Don't waste my time, old man."

Dumbledore continued as if he had not been interrupted. "Your knowledge of the prophecy is incomplete, Tom. Your actions over the past seventeen years have been based on half-truths and partial information. I think the time has come for you to hear the entire prophecy."

Pointing his wand at his own temple, Dumbledore drew out a long, silvery thread of memory. Instead of depositing this in a pensieve, however, Dumbledore shook his wand sideways, the thread waving crazily at the tip until it detached itself and floated toward the seat where the Dark Lord rested. The thread expanded until the image of a much-younger Sybil Trelawney hovered next to the Headmaster's chair, and began to speak in a loud, harsh voice.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…"_

The ethereal figure stopped speaking and dissolved into an indistinct mist. From an inner pocket of his robes, Dumbledore withdrew a small, shining glass globe. Hermione recognised it at once; it looked like any one of the thousands of stored prophecies that she had seen in the Ministry of Magic two years earlier. Obviously, Voldemort had not expected this; his eyes widened in surprise, and absolute silence reigned in the Hall.

"Sybil Trelawney does have a gift for true prophecy, despite evidence to the contrary," Dumbledore said in an amused voice. "Here is one more that you might find interesting, Tom." The Headmaster stepped back and quite deliberately smashed the glass globe on the stone floor in front of him.

This prophecy had apparently been made fairly recently, as its vision of Sybil Trelawney looked much more familiar.

_"At the time of leaving, when forces of dark and light are met, the Purest Heart shall prevail. The strengths of all shall be bound to this One. In him and through him, the old ways must die while new life and true union are born. His blood…his sacrifice shall seal the fate of all. At the time of leaving, when forces of dark and light are met, the Purest Heart shall prevail."_

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: This Mortal Coil **

As the second prophecy was spoken, Hermione saw colourful auras appearing around each person in the room. The prone forms of Hagrid and Grawp were wrapped in an energy field of deep, earthy brown. Nearby, a cloud of gentle pink floated about Ginny's small body. Remus Lupin was surrounded by a bluish haze, while Peter Pettigrew's corona was a faint yellowish-green. Severus looked like he was trapped in a smoky black thundercloud, and Ron's orange-hued aura seemed to be almost an extension of his natural hair colour. Dumbledore was surrounded by silver; Lucius Malfoy's handsome face reflected his own aura of poisonous brownish-green. Dean Thomas was bathed in red, Neville in a rich forest green, while Luna glowed within a field of pale violet. Professor McGonagall's bright golden corona contrasted vividly against the blood red field of light surrounding Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione's own cloud of fresh, green light hovered around her small form. Only the figure of the Dark Lord remained unadorned by a colourful nimbus.

Harry's aura was remarkable for two reasons. It was blindingly white; so bright, in fact, that Hermione screwed up her eyes against the almost painful level of light it reflected. It was also far more substantial than any of the others. It looked almost solid, like a huge piece of cotton wool or a very dense patch of cloud.

The ghostly form of Professor Trelawney dissolved, and all eyes turned back to Dumbledore. With a sweeping gesture, the old wizard raised both arms together, as if he were gathering something to him. The fields of colour that had appeared around each person in the room wavered slightly before snaking toward Dumbledore. As it moved, each cloud stretched into a long, thin thread of concentrated colour.

Once all of the aura threads had been gathered into Dumbledore's embrace, he walked slowly back to the Head Table. Extending his arms toward the prone figure of the Boy Who Lived, Dumbledore pierced the brilliant white cloud that hovered above Harry with the tips of his long fingers. All of the gathered threads poured from Dumbledore's grasp into the gaps he had created in Harry's aura, filling the cloud with a swirling mass of colour.

Hermione's attention was torn between Dumbledore, her friend, and the amazing sight of his spiritual energy being flooded with the essences of the assembled party. The Headmaster, she noticed with some concern, seemed to diminish as the transfer of energy, colour and light continued.

Either the full body bind had worn off or Voldemort had deemed it no longer necessary, for Harry turned his face toward Dumbledore.

"Harry," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice, "Harry, it's time to choose. You can end this now, if you wish."

Hermione wondered what he meant. _"End this?"_ she thought. _"What does he mean? And what can Harry choose?" _The Boy Who Lived, however, seemed to know at once what the Headmaster was saying.

Harry spoke. "I understand, Sir. Thank you. I will do what needs to be done." The young wizard met his mentor's gaze with a small, tired smile. Sparkling blue eyes met deep green ones; the look of love and understanding exchanged between the two was clear for all to see.

Time seemed to stand still as Hermione watched Harry close his eyes, then turn his head slowly back to face the Dark Lord. As he did so, the kaleidoscopic cloud descended like a blanket over Harry's thin frame. It lay still for an instant, then dissolved as if it were being drawn into Harry's skin.

Harry spoke directly to Voldemort now. "I'm ready."

With a look of insane delight on his face, the Dark Lord raised his wand and pointed it directly at Harry's heart.

"I must confess to being a little disappointed, Harry." Voldemort mocked as he leaned in closer. "Where is that famous Gryffindor bravery? Are you so ready, then, to turn your world over to me?" Harry's eyes remained closed, which seemed to infuriate his tormentor. "Look at me, boy!" Voldemort commanded in a shrill voice.

Harry opened his eyes. With a sickening look of gratification on his deathly white face, Voldemort opened his mouth to cast the killing curse. _"Avada Kedavra!"_ he shrieked, the words echoing off the ancient stone walls of the Great Hall. At the same time, a jet of green energy flashed from the tip of the Dark Lord's wand.

Instead of killing him, however, Voldemort's magical energy paused a fraction of an inch above Harry's chest. A swirl of rainbow-hued light had leapt from the Boy Who Lived, deflecting the curse and absorbing its energy before twisting slowly back up toward the Dark Lord.

Voldemort's red eyes widened in fear. He looked from his wand to Harry, then questioningly at Dumbledore. Hermione looked at the Headmaster as well, and was shocked to see how very weak and old he suddenly seemed, as if his efforts had drained the last of his strength.

The multi-coloured energy had reached the Dark Lord's wand, completely engulfing it before moving up to cover his hand, then his arm. Soon it was spreading inexorably across Voldemort's skeletally thin frame. He stood there rigidly, apparently powerless to stop the process. Waves of every conceivable colour washed over his bone white skin, covering him entirely before disappearing as if they were being absorbed into the flesh itself.

As each wave passed, the Dark Lord's appearance changed dramatically. The gaunt, deathly pale face rounded out and took on a healthier shade. A normal human nose grew out of the flattened snake-like one that had preceded it. The crimson irises of Voldemort's eyes transformed into ordinary brown. Like a time-lapse film of a plant growing, thick wavy black hair flecked with grey grew rapidly on his formerly bald head. While still tall and thin, Voldemort took on a stoop-shouldered appearance, as if years of hard toil now sat heavily on him.

Finally, instead of the fearful, inhuman form of the Dark Lord, a tall, hunched, elderly wizard of unremarkable appearance stood at the Headmaster's place, looking fearfully around at the assembled company.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and nodded. "Welcome back, Tom," he said gently.

Harry, who had lain quite still since Voldemort had cast the killing curse, slowly turned and slid off the table, until he was standing face-to-face with his former adversary. Hermione was struck at once with their physical similarities; both were unusually pale, with black hair and long, thin faces.

The Death Eaters all responded quite differently to the evolution of their Master. A look of haughty disdain was fixed on Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic face; apparently he was unimpressed by Voldemort's new physical form. Bellatrix Lestrange let out a blood-curdling wail then began rushing around the room wildly, too distracted to notice that Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin and Severus Snape had all pointed their wands at her. Three stunning spells hit her at once; a look of utter confusion crossed her emaciated face as she crumpled into a heap on the cold flagstones.

Peter Pettigrew's reaction was by far the most interesting. He lowered his arms slowly to his sides, his wand falling limply from his hand and clattering to the floor. The expression on his pale, pointed face alternated between fear, confusion, and relief as he glanced timidly at the suddenly-human appearance of his former Master.

Like a sleepwalker, Pettigrew approached the Head Table at a measured pace, circling around behind it until he stood within inches of Tom Riddle. Riddle broke his silent contemplation of Harry, turning around until he hovered over the much smaller form of his former servant.

"Master?" Pettigrew whispered. He raised his shining silver hand to Riddle's face, slowly tracing over the man's features with a look of wonder in his eyes. Riddle stood perfectly still, barely drawing breath as that silver hand trailed slowly down, coming to a halt with the palm touching his chest.

Abruptly, Pettigrew turned his hand so the metallic fingers pointed directly at Riddle's heart. "I never thanked you properly, my _LORD_…" Pettigrew's voice lost all traces of gentleness as he plunged a dagger-sharp silver finger deep into Riddle's chest, "for your _KINDNESS _to me_…_" he snarled, twisting the finger in deeper, "while I was your _SLAVE_!"

The Hall's other occupants stood transfixed as Riddle shuddered and started to collapse. The smaller man supported his weight, however, forcing him to remain upright with his left hand while adding a second silver finger to Riddle's gaping wound. "You said I was a coward…and weak…" Pettigrew spat as Riddle's blood coursed over his hand, marring the shining silver with a gory trail. "My loyalty…my _SACRIFICES_…they meant _NOTHING_ to you!"

Just then, the sound of running footsteps echoed from the castle's front door. Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, followed closely by the six remaining members of the Weasley family, burst into the Great Hall with their wands raised. The grotesque scene unfolding before them halted Tonks, Moody and Shacklebolt dead in their tracks.

Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George Weasley ran towards Ron and Luna, stopping abruptly at the sight of Percy's lifeless body. Molly threw herself on the ground, staring into Percy's blank eyes and sobbing his name. The others stood watching her silently, with ashen faces.

Ginny, however, distanced herself from this heartrending tableau. Skirting the witches and wizards who stood watching the downfall of Lord Voldemort, Ginny made her way to Harry's side. In a now-familiar gesture, she wrapped an arm around the young man's waist and drew him to her, cradling his dark head against her neck while speaking soft words of comfort.

At last, Pettigrew released the now lifeless body of his former Master. As Riddle collapsed onto the cold flagstones, his killer turned to survey the assembled crowd with a triumphant look in his beady black eyes. Lupin approached the Head Table cautiously with his wand raised, but Pettigrew gave no resistance as Lupin immobilised him with a full body bind. The remaining Order members rounded up and restrained Lucius, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Flint, Travers and Bellatrix, then set about reviving Hagrid and Grawp.

Hermione, who had been completely engrossed in the drama unfolding before her, was startled into sudden awareness by a soft "thud" nearby. Looking to her left, she saw that Professor Dumbledore had fallen to his knees.

All other activity in the Hall came to an abrupt halt as everyone focused on the frail, elderly form of the Headmaster. With one trembling hand, Dumbledore reached toward Harry. Harry cried out and started forward, but the Head Table blocked his path. In dismay, the assembled party watched as Dumbledore overbalanced and fell face down, landing squarely in the centre of the Hogwarts Tapestry.

Hermione and Professor McGonagall were the first to reach the fallen Headmaster. They gently lifted Dumbledore and turned him face up, his shining silver hair cascading over Hermione's forearm as his head dropped listlessly back. Harry clambered over the table and rushed to his mentor's side, dropping to his knees and clutching the ancient wizard desperately to his chest.

The room fell into utter silence. For the space of a single heartbeat, time stood still. Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes the Phoenix left his perch and soared over to Harry and Dumbledore. Landing lightly on the ancient linen of the Tapestry, Fawkes opened his long, golden beak and began to sing.

His song was much the same as Hermione had heard earlier. This time, however, it came in a long, slow, droning wail that offered a soft sadness and very little comfort. The voice of the bird faltered; as he continued, longer and more frequent pauses were heard, as if the singer was too overcome with grief to continue.

The song trailed off into nothingness. Fawkes crawled the last little distance to his former master's body before laying his beautiful red-gold head in the old wizard's lap. Harry, Hermione and Professor McGonagall all leapt backwards as the Headmaster and the Phoenix burst into a single ball of flame. In a flash, the flames disappeared, leaving nothing-no bird, no Dumbledore-not even a pile of ash or a puff of smoke-in their wake.

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Tapestry Complete **

Reactions to Dumbledore's death ranged greatly. Severus drove one long-fingered hand through his hair, casting a desolate look at the place where the Headmaster had fallen. McGonagall, Lupin, Shacklebolt, and Tonks all hung their heads and looked sadly at the ground. Ginny and Harry stood with their arms wrapped around each other, looking like frightened children. Hagrid, only recently revived from Voldemort's curse, burst into noisy tears while his half brother Grawp looked at him with a puzzled expression. The Weasley family, faced with two great losses in a single morning, looked pale and drawn as they reached out to each other for comfort.

Hermione stood alone, her tears falling freely as she thought back to her dealings with the Headmaster. Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and eccentric sense of humour had belied his true greatness. He had been kind, compassionate and wise, and many lives had been made immeasurably richer by his presence. The residents of Hogwarts had lost a true friend, while the wizarding world had lost its greatest hero.

Harry, who was still closest to the place where the Headmaster had fallen, suddenly let out a sharp cry. Hermione glanced up and saw Harry pointing down at the Tapestry.

Dozens of brilliantly hued threads had appeared on its surface and were busily weaving themselves through the ancient cloth. Figures of wizards and witches appeared, the castle and surrounding grounds wove themselves into existence…in a frenzy of flashing colour and movement, the history of Hogwarts unfolded in linen and silk.

Having studied the History of Magic for seven years, Hermione was able to recognise many of the key events and figures from the school's past. The four founders-Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin-stood out proudly on the extreme left corner of the linen. Further along, scenes of young witches and wizards playing Quidditch, attending classes, and gathered at mealtimes were interspersed with pictures from the greater wizarding world. Battles, alliances made and broken, the growing threat of evil…all played roles in the telling of Hogwarts' history.

Recent events had also been recorded. The first rise of the Dark Lord and the gathering of his followers, the attack on Harry's family when he was a baby-even the events of the past seven years were illustrated in fantastic detail. And while the Tapestry to this point was already very long indeed, there was at least as much blank linen left as that already covered in embroidery. This realisation comforted Hermione. Despite the sadness of the day, it was heartening to think that the future of the School and its occupants had yet to be written.

That afternoon and evening were spent contacting frantic parents, scheduling a late train to return the students to their homes, and making arrangements for carriage rides back to Hogsmeade Station. Without conscious effort, Hermione had become involved in the coordination of all these things. Luckily she found the time to write a quick note to her own family, explaining her delay and telling them she would be in touch again soon.

Of the young witches and wizards who had participated in the last battle, all but Harry and Hermione returned to their homes. Ginny objected strongly to being separated from Harry, but as she was not yet of age, her parents insisted that she make the trip back to the Burrow with them. The arrangements for Percy's funeral had to be made, and the input of each family member had to be considered.

Professor McGonagall encouraged Harry to spend some time with Remus Lupin. The two wizards ate a quiet meal in the Gryffindor common room before heading to Lupin's small cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The pain of Dumbledore's death was too recent to dwell upon, so instead they sat up late into the night talking about the days of Lupin's youth, when Harry's father had been one of his dearest friends.

It was close to midnight before Hermione had time to sneak off to the kitchens in search of a late supper. Standing in front of the painting of a giant bowl of fruit, Hermione tickled the large green pear until it wiggled and transformed into a door handle. Hermione was just reaching toward the door when it opened from within. The tall figure of Severus Snape emerged, balancing a bottle of white wine, two wineglasses, a baguette, and a tray with assorted fruits and cheeses.

"Let me get that, Severus," Hermione said as she relieved him of the wine, bread and glasses. "You must be _really_ hungry…this is enough to feed a small army!"

"Actually, I was hoping to find someone to share it with," he replied with a small smile. "Would you care to join me?"

On their way to his office, Severus and Hermione discussed all they'd done that afternoon. Severus had helped Professor McGonagall banish the Dementors from the castle. Afterwards, he and several other Order members had transported the captive Death Eaters to a holding cell at the Ministry of Magic. The trip was a long and dangerous one, and Severus had only just returned to Hogwarts before heading down to the kitchens at midnight.

After an impromptu picnic in front of Snape's fire, the two lovers cuddled together in his bed, speaking in soft voices about the day's events. Eventually Hermione drifted off to sleep with her cheek resting against Severus' thin chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat providing much needed comfort.

In her dreams, Hermione was once again at the familiar castle. The endless-seeming staircase carried her higher and higher, until at last she found herself facing the heavy wooden door once again. The rusty old-fashioned doorknob turned easily, and with a rush of anticipation, Hermione finally entered the room on the other side of the door.

Starlight trickled through a single window, augmenting the flicker of several fat yellow beeswax candles that lined the mantelpiece. Scattered around the room were familiar, well-loved objects. With great satisfaction, Hermione recognised her family photo album balanced on a delicate piecrust table and her worn copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ laying open on the seat of a wingback chair. Crookshanks was sprawled in front of a roaring fire, cleaning his paws and purring contentedly. This room and its furnishings were far more home-like and welcoming than even her family's comfortable house in London.

Running her hand lightly over the delightful textures of rich cloth and polished wood, Hermione made her way to the room's lone window. As she gazed down on the shadowy lawns and spinneys below her, a soft breeze touched her face, bringing with it the much-beloved voice of Albus Dumbledore.

"Your compassion and patience have brought you the greatest of all rewards, Hermione-the gift of love. Now that you and Severus have found each other, may you fill each other's lives with purpose and hope. The dawning of this new day brings an end to darkness, and all possible futures lay open before you."

The thinnest of pale pink lines hovered over the horizon. In its growing light, the stars faded and the shadowy pockets of night became insubstantial. Songbirds were now waking; the cool night air was dispersing, giving way to the warmth and brightness of sunrise.

In her sleep, Hermione sighed with contentment as her lips curved up in a grateful smile.

Hermione and Severus met up with the new Headmistress at breakfast early the following morning. Though tired, Professor McGonagall greeted them cordially and gestured for them to join her.

"I wanted to thank you for all your help, Hermione," the older witch said as she sipped from a steaming cup of black coffee. "I'm sure you would prefer to be with your family, but can I be terribly selfish and ask you to stay at Hogwarts for a few more days?"

Hermione smiled at her former Head of House. "Actually, Professor, I've already sent an owl to my parents. I told them not to expect me for a while, since I hoped I might be able to help here." The young woman decided not to mention that the man sitting between them provided her with another, stronger motive for staying. At that moment, Severus' amused voice entered Hermione's mind.

_"I think Minerva might like to know how __I__ feel about your staying on, Hermione. Perhaps I'll tell her…"_

_"Oh no you don't!" _Hermione replied via the same mental link. _"Don't even __think__ of it, Severus!"_

_"I don't see why not." _Severus continued his teasing._ "She has no idea how helpful and enthusiastic you can be when properly motivated!" _

While Professor McGonagall was not privy to this mental banter, the slightly put-out look on Hermione's face and the wicked little smile that twisted up the corners of Severus' mouth definitely got her attention.

"Sorry, my mind wandered for a moment. Did I miss something?" Professor McGonagall asked innocently.

"Oh, nothing important, Headmistress." Hermione replied with a sharp, 'don't you dare!' look at her lover.

Late in the afternoon, Professor McGonagall summoned Harry and Hermione up to the Headmaster's old office. In sorting through some of Dumbledore's belongings, she had come across one package each for Harry and Hermione, labeled in the late Headmaster's own spidery hand.

McGonagall left the two young people alone to open their parcels, suggesting they come find her in her own office if they needed anything. Hermione chose her usual chair in front of Dumbledore's cluttered desk. With trembling fingers, she untied the twine and ripped the brown paper wrapping from her package.

A piece of parchment, neatly folded and sealed with red wax, lay on top of a shiny golden box. Setting aside the note for a moment, Hermione opened the box to find a good supply of the former Headmaster's favourite sweets waiting for her. Hermione popped a sherbet lemon in her mouth, broke the note's seal, and read Dumbledore's message.

_Dearest Hermionie,_

_If your reading this that means i've only just begun my next adventure, death. Thank you Hermionie for your great efforts and outstanding patience with Severus. I wish you two a happy life. Don't mourn me, I was happy to go; It was my time. I've left you a box of my favorite sweets, I hope you enjoy them._

_Albus_

Hermione glanced at her friend, who had lain his own parcel across the Headmaster's desk. Harry's eyes were filled with tears. With a trembling hand, he pick up his parcel and quietly shuffled out of the room.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Preserving the Past; Creating the Future**

Despite the heat of the summer day, the air in the dungeons was cool and damp. Torchlight flickered across the polished ebony surface of Snape's desk as he paced the length of the room, waiting for Hermione's arrival.

A light tap was followed instantly by the creak of hinges as the heavy wooden door of his office slowly ground open. Hermione Granger stepped shyly into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"You're late." Severus noted, pursing his lips in annoyance.

Her light cotton dress of pale yellow outlined the young woman's trim form as she walked toward her former Professor. "I'm sorry, Severus," she replied. "Professor McGonagall kept me back after the meeting to talk about my plans for next year. I suppose I just lost track of the time."

Severus did not answer. Hermione stopped where she was and watched his progress around the room. While she regretted keeping him waiting, she hadn't counted on his reacting so strongly to her tardiness.

"Really, I don't see why you're making so much of this," she said, offhandedly. "I would wait for you, if our situations were reversed."

Hermione realised her mistake as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Severus' black cloak whipped around his thin frame as he turned and strode swiftly toward her. The flickering torchlight stressed the contrast between his pallor and the inky blackness of his hair and attire. Though Hermione loved him, Severus seemed neither comforting nor loveable at the moment. Here, in his own element, he was intense, dangerous, and commanding.

With an uncertain look in her eyes, the young witch backed away. He was too fast for her. In an instant, she was pinned against the office door, his weight pressing her into the rough wood. One thin, long fingered hand captured and held her right wrist while the other traced along the column of her throat before coming to rest at the top button of her dress.

"I don't like to be kept waiting." Severus said in a low, even voice as a single finger traced down along the row of pearly buttons. Hermione's pulse quickened as his long, hawk-like nose nudged a stray curl away from her forehead. She felt his lips brush along her temple.

A draught of colder air lifted the hem of her skirt and Hermione shivered slightly. "You're right of course. I wasn't…" Hermione swallowed quickly, "I just wasn't thinking."

She raised her eyes to her lover's face and saw that a lock of his oily black hair had fallen forward across one eye. Her left hand trembled slightly as she tucked the hair back. "I…I'm sorry, Severus," she said in a small voice.

Without a word, the tall man stooped down and captured her lips in a bruising kiss, catching the fullness of her bottom lip between his teeth. He bit down, not very gently, until Hermione opened her own mouth, either to cry out in pain or encouragement (even she didn't know which).

**[LEMON AHEAD] **

As he pressed his tongue into her mouth, his right hand traveled down and around behind her, until those lovely long fingers teased along the underside of her buttock. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as the fingers continued their course, tracing the edge of her knickers and diving into the heat between her legs. She moaned, feeling herself become moist in response to his movements.

Abruptly, Severus pulled back, holding her at arm's length as she tried to cuddle against his warmth once more.

"Severus…?" Hermione spoke tentatively, wondering at this sudden change. Her lover stepped back, his arms crossed and a faint look of amusement in his eyes.

"Strip," he said in a detached voice.

"I…you…" Hermione stuttered, hugging herself against the cold draughts. Her eyes widened as she realised he was serious. "Here? Now?"

His expression made it abundantly clear that he would not accept anything less than total compliance. Hermione quickly began to unbutton her dress, hoping that she would be allowed back into his embrace when she was finished.

"No. Slow down." Severus purred, his smile never wavering. "I want to enjoy this."

The young witch shivered with a combination of frustration and cold as she methodically popped each tiny button from its mooring. Not daring to look into his eyes again, she focused completely on the task at hand.

At long last, Hermione stood before her lover in her bra and knickers. The thin-soled slippers she wore did little to protect her feet from the cold flagstones.

"Turn around, slowly." Severus commanded, watching her mass of brown curls swing heavily across her back as she did as she was told. Her nipples, hardened by the cold air, pressed against the sheer fabric of her bra. Snape licked his lips, remembering their texture and taste.

He gestured for her to precede him, and they made their way through his sitting room and into his bedroom. Though she was not a classic beauty, Hermione was possessed of a certain natural grace that lent an air of enchantment to her simplest gestures. She turned to glance at him over her shoulder as they approached the door to his bed chamber. The inquisitive look in her bright hazel eyes, combined with the shy invitation of her smile, caused Severus' heart to skip a beat.

The walk from the office to his room had given her time to think. She loved Severus. Though she felt his anger was excessive, she was determined to please him. If this meant completely submitting to his wishes tonight, then so be it. As if this resolution had the power to overcome her physical discomfort, Hermione willed herself to stop shivering, straightened her back, and slowly turned around to face him.

_"Ah, the bold Gryffindor has returned,"_ Snape thought with some amusement.

"On the bed, if you would," he said aloud, waving his wand to draw down the heavy bedspread.

She walked to the four-poster and perched on the edge, again looking at Severus for further instruction. He was soon next to her, sitting sideways so that one long, black-clad leg trailed over the side of the bed while the other supported his thin hip. The rough fabric of his trousers tickled her bare thigh, but she resisted the urge to press closer.

Hermione felt a jumble of emotions; she longed to touch him, to kiss that stern brow and run her hands through his curtain of ebony hair. She was also uneasy, and trembled at the thought of what he might ask of her. Though she trusted him not to hurt her, she also felt the power of his combined anger and passion. Above all, she wanted him to be touching her. The memory of his hands and mouth pleasing her for that brief instant, then being withdrawn so cruelly, was almost more than she could bear.

As if in answer to her unspoken desire, Severus began to lightly circle her right nipple with the very tip of his thumb.

Hermione's eyes closed of their own volition and she shuddered with unmet need. His touch was maddening; it set every nerve ending on fire, yet came nowhere near satisfying the longing that his presence had awoken in her. Her moisture started flowing freely again. In her frustration, Hermione tried to inconspicuously stimulate herself against the edge of his bed.

Severus immediately withdrew his thumb and stood up. If she had not silently vowed to please him and submit to his will, Hermione would have shrieked her disappointment at him and begged for him to return. As it was, she sat on the bed, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes and a chest that heaved with the effort of controlling her very unruly heart.

_"Why are you doing this, Severus?"_ she pleaded in her thoughts. Given her highly emotional state and their proximity, she knew he could 'hear' her, if he chose to. _"Do I really deserve this?"_

_"Patience." _Came his wholly unsatisfactory reply.

As she watched, Severus removed his cloak, then his boots. Stepping closer to the bed, he took Hermione's hands in his own and guided them to the front of his trousers. Hermione's fingers shook as she unbuttoned them; Severus removed his frock coat, but made no move to take off his crisp white linen shirt.

Again, Severus' smooth voice entered her mind. _"Up on your knees now." _

Hermione pulled her feet up under her and sat back against her haunches as Severus climbed up to join her. Wordlessly, he guided her toward the nearest bedpost, placing her hands around the richly carved ebony at a point so low that she was forced to bend at the waist to hold on.

From behind her, Severus urged her legs apart, giving him access once again to the smooth curve of her buttocks and the rapidly moistening piece of cloth between her legs. With both hands, he began mapping every inch of her perfectly rounded ass. Running the tips of his fingers under the gauzy material, he scraped lightly at the sensitive flesh with his nails, raising goosebumps along Hermione's spine. Occasionally a finger might slip teasingly close to her entrance, only to be withdrawn abruptly at the first hint of response.

"Patience," he whispered in that silky voice, as he brought his erection up to graze against the silky skin of her inner thigh. With his hand, he guided the intense heat of his penis first up one thigh, catching lightly on her knickers before bringing it down her other leg.

"I think we can do away with these," he said as he pulled her knickers down abruptly with his free hand.

"Oh god, please…Severus, please…do it now…please…" Hermione begged, desperate for the feeling of him inside her, not caring about the promises she'd made to herself just moments earlier.

"Do you see," he continued maddeningly, as if he hadn't heard her, "how very frustrating…" he used the fingers of one hand to spread her labia as he guided his cock to her entrance with the other hand, "waiting can be, Hermione?"

Hermione was whimpering. "Y-yes, take me now…Severus…I'm sorry…please, just…please…"

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he pushed hard into her. The sensation was so abrupt…so intense and unexpected…that Hermione screamed and bucked. Severus held her to him with both hands and allowed her to come to rest before he began pumping into her with a steady rhythm. Each thrust was almost painful; from their current positions, his penis was touching her in ways that she'd never thought possible before. Leaving his right hand on her hip for balance, he brought his left hand around in front of her and pinched lightly but steadily at her clitoris. She tossed her head back and shrieked his name; the sensations he was drawing from her were so intense she was in danger of blacking out.

"Easy, love…shhh…" he said as her breathing became harsh and ragged. "Don't work so hard. It's alright…you're alright…"

She made an effort to control her breathing, and focused instead on the steady pulse of his cock caressing the walls of her vagina. The realisation that he was also close to being overwhelmed hit her as she felt the racing of his pulse against the tender skin of her buttocks. An idea struck her; as he made to pull back after the next stroke, Hermione deliberately clamped her muscles tight against him as if she were trying to hold him inside her. She knew she'd been successful as she heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his sudden stillness.

"Hermione…do you know what that…how incredible that felt?" he said in an unsteady voice. She repeated her effort with his next thrust and withdrawal and was rewarded by a marked increase in his attentions to her clitoris.

It became a battle of wills. Each was determined to bring the other to an incredible climax; the harder he worked her clitoris, the tighter she clung on his withdrawal. His pace quickened; as she felt the first stirring of her orgasm hit, she felt his cock push tight against her cervix and pulse after pulse of hot semen filling her.

**[LEMON OVERR]**

Hermione remained at Hogwarts for the duration of the summer. In her spare time, she began writing a more comprehensive history of the school. While _Hogwarts, A History_ had served the student body adequately in the past, Hermione felt that recent events deserved to be documented. She also wanted to recognise non-wizards in her book. In her opinion, the centaurs, merpeople and house elves that lived and worked on the school grounds all merited credit for their contributions.

One of her greatest supporters in this endeavor was the portrait of Albus Dumbledore which now hung above McGonagall's desk. Hermione spent so much time arguing the finer points of non-fiction writing with Dumbledore's likeness that the Headmistress had commissioned a second copy of the portrait for Hermione's own chambers.

Between her work on the book, discussions with Dumbledore's portrait and assisting various professors as they prepared for the first day of classes, Hermione was kept very busy indeed.

Standing alone in the Great Hall one sweltering August day, Hermione followed a very familiar pale green thread through the workings of the Tapestry. It struck her as odd that her own thread should so often be found by itself. After all, she had been very close friends with Ron and Harry for most of their time at Hogwarts. Why then did the pale green thread so often wander off on a path of its own?

A familiar and much-beloved shadow fell across the linen as Hermione continued to trace her thread. With a soft touch at her waist, Severus wordlessly let Hermione know of his presence. The two lovers stood looking at the Tapestry in silence for several minutes.

"Severus, look at this!" Hermione breathed, pointing to a place where her own mark abruptly changed course and headed toward another, much darker thread. "Is that you? That black thread, just next to mine?"

"I believe it is, my love." Severus replied. "It seems this Tapestry knows things about us that few others ever will. Do you see how my thread breaks away every time yours gets too close?"

"Oh!" Hermione gestured to a place where the two lines suddenly diverged. "This must be last Christmas, after we…after I kissed you under the mistletoe." Hermione hesitated, tears clouding her vision as she recalled those troubled times.

Severus walked around until they stood facing each other, then pulled her in close to brush away her tears with a gentle hand. "I did what I thought was best at the time. I am sorry, Hermione."

Hermione remembered how hard he'd fought to safeguard her from his "wicked" past. Though confident now that he returned her love, she couldn't help feeling that she still had much to learn about this very complicated man. Taking his hand between both of her own, Hermione looked up into Severus' glittering eyes. "I love you, Severus Snape," she whispered.

At last, after months of hard work, the staff of Hogwarts was ready for the return of their students. Taking her cue from Dumbledore's desire for reconciliation and unity, Headmistress McGonagall had decided to do away with the old House distinctions. In lieu of the traditional House banners, the Tapestry itself was displayed proudly on the wall behind the Head Table. Now students were encouraged to mingle freely and sit wherever they pleased in the Great Hall.

Sitting with Ginny, Luna and Kerry, Hermione watched the returning students come to terms with this new informality. A hush fell over the assembled crowd as Professor Flitwick, carrying a three-legged stool and the ancient Sorting Hat, led dozens of eager-looking first-year students down the Hall's centre aisle.

The dilapidated old hat wobbled precariously as it was placed upon the stool. Hermione suppressed a snort of laughter as it began to sing, for both the tune and the lyrics were rowdy, boisterous, and decidedly cheeky.

**Oh, a happy happy hat am I today!**

**No more work for me…I just snooze and play!**

While it's true I used to sift,

And in fact I used to sort,

If you ask me now, I'll just shout "NO WAY!"

Oh, a happy happy cap am I, you see!

I am unemployed…I'm so fancy free!

Do not ask me where to go…

I'll just answer "I dunno!"

"Que sera sera, what will be will be!"

Yes, a happy happy hat sits inside this Hall.

No more woes have I….not a care at all!

Just go find yourself a seat,

Then you'll all get lots to eat.

Have a good time! Have a party! Have a ball!

With one last wobble and a resounding "Whee!" the very inebriated Sorting Hat overbalanced and slid to the floor. Amidst the cheers and energetic applause from the student body, Hermione noticed that both McGonagall and Snape looked much more relaxed than they had at previous Sorting Ceremonies. With a mellow smile on her face, the new Headmistress rose and welcomed the students to another year at Hogwarts.

Looking at Severus from across the room, Hermione felt her heart turn over. "_True, Severus will never be the life of the party,"_ Hermione thought, _"but he suits me." _She smiled at him and caught a sparkle of real joy in his black eyes. _"Yes, I am one __very__ lucky witch!" _

**Chapter Thirty: Different Threads, Many Weavers**

Hermione was enjoying her second cup of tea when the snowy owl landed on the table next to her plate.

"Hedwig!" Hermione exclaimed, both surprised and pleased to see Harry's much beloved owl return to Hogwarts. Severus looked up from his omelet with an amused expression.

"She appears to want a reward," he said, offering the graceful bird a discarded bacon rind.

Hermione removed a slip of parchment from Hedwig's leg and stroked the downy feathers on her head before the owl soared out of the Great Hall.

"Oh! Are you up for a bit of a journey?" Hermione asked her husband as he took a sip of black coffee. "Ginny's planning a party for Harry's twenty-fifth birthday, and we're invited."

Severus rolled his eyes, but the sly smile at the corner of his mouth belied any hint of irritation as he replied. "Ah yes, Mister Harry Potter-The Young Man Who Lived, Despite All Odds. When do we leave?"

"Ginny suggests we come down on Friday with Neville and Kerry, since she's really not supposed to be apparating or using a port key in her present condition. I could hire a van in Edinburgh, then we could motor down in the morning. We can make an adventure out of it!"

Neville picked that moment to approach the Head Table. Juggling a cup of tea, a cranberry scone and a stack of greenhouse catalogues, Hogwarts' new Herbology Professor slid into the seat next to Hermione.

Hermione leaned over and gave Neville a soft peck on the cheek. "How's Kerry feeling this morning?" she asked with a sly wink at Severus.

"I think the morning sickness has passed, thank heavens!" Neville confided. "Though she seems to be a bit…erm…emotional lately."

He buttered a piece of scone and popped it into his mouth. "We got a note from Ginny this morning about the birthday party. I thought Kerry'd be excited about going, but she just burst into tears and ran out of the room."

"Don't let it worry you, Neville," Hermione replied. "It's just hormonal changes. Making a baby can do some pretty funny things to a witch. She'll be back to her old self soon enough."

Neville gently pointed out that, as Severus and Hermione had opted not to have any children, she really had no expertise in this area.

"He's right, you know," Severus murmured, taking one of her hands in his own and rubbing his thumb lovingly across the palm. "That is definitely one thing you can't learn in a book, my dear."

Hermione freed her hand and slapped her husband playfully, her eyes sparkling with laughter. "Just for that, YOU can come with me to hire the car. Severus Snape, the great wizard and terror of the classroom…reduced to waiting en queue with a bunch of common Muggles!"

On Friday morning, Kerry, Neville, Severus and Hermione loaded their bags into their hired Opel Zafira minivan. As the only member of the party who had any experience with Muggle cars, Hermione settled in to drive the five and a half hours to Harry and Ginny's farm in Derbyshire.

The journey turned out to be quite enjoyable. Mile after mile of rolling green meadows rushed past the windows as Kerry and Severus engaged in a spirited debate about Muggle fashions.

"Muggle clothes are the 'in' thing now with young witches and wizards, Severus," Kerry said in a teasing voice. "I think a nice, tight-fitting pair of Levi's would really suit you, with your long legs and all…"

"With a zippy…a zip'em…whatever, in front? No thank you, Mrs. Longbottom!" Severus gave an exaggerated shudder. "Buttons are far safer, even if they are a bit old-fashioned."

Neville and Hermione laughed as Kerry pointed out the existence of something called "button fly" jeans.

In a confidential aside, Neville suggested that Severus get used to the idea. "She can be a very

determined woman," he said quietly. "Don't be surprised to find a pair of blue jeans under your tree at Christmas!"

Pulling up in front of the ancient stone farmhouse in the late afternoon, Hermione was struck with how well Harry's current lifestyle suited him. He and Ginny had married soon after her final year at Hogwarts. Using Harry's inherited money, they had purchased a small farm near the White Peaks village of Monyash. With three young children, Harry and Ginny's lives were filled with laughter and companionship—something that Harry had always been denied in his own childhood.

Chickens and ducks waddled in the crushed stone driveway, a milk cow chewed contentedly on a mouthful of young grass, and a nearby hillside was dotted with slow-moving wild sheep. Watching the spirals of wood smoke drift from the farmhouse chimneys, Hermione imagined the delightful meal that was sure to be waiting for them at her friends' table. Like her mother, Ginny was an excellent cook, and Harry was renowned for the desserts he made using fruit grown in their small orchard.

Harry and Ron rushed out to help unload the travelers' bags, while Neville escorted his pregnant wife to the front door. Hermione helped Neville settle Kerry into a comfortable chair near the hearth, then dropped gratefully into an overstuffed loveseat.

With a contented sigh, Hermione gestured for Severus to come join her. Threading her arms around his neck, Hermione snuggled in close to her husband and watched Ron and Luna's five-year-old twins play a quiet game of gobstones in a far corner. Harry and Ginny's three children stood nearby, clearly fascinated by the hyperactive movement of Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, as he zoomed around the room.

After greeting the newcomers, Luna returned her attentions to the odd-looking cylindrical garment she was knitting.

"What's that you're making, Luna?" Hermione asked. Hermione secretly hoped this was not intended as a gift for Kerry's baby, as the garment in question had thirteen very long, thin arms and no place for a baby's head to stick out.

"Dad says the Crumple Horned Snorkacks have been falling ill. Head colds. They're already an Endangered Species," Luna continued with wide eyes, "…so I'm making sweaters for them."

"Well, I'm sure they'll appreciate the gesture." Hermione replied, doing her very best to keep any hint of amusement out of her voice. "But…won't it be a bit difficult for the Snorkacks to breathe? I mean….uhh, you haven't left any space for their heads to come out."

Luna rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows Snorkacks don't have noses on their _heads_, Hermione. Honestly! Don't you read?"

Hermione shrugged. "I do, Luna. Just not the right sort of thing, apparently!"

Ginny came in to announce that supper was being served in the back garden. The group of eight adults and five children straggled outside where two tables had been set up. As she helped herself to poached salmon with lemon and dill, boiled new potatoes and tender young green beans, Hermione listened to the happy chatter of her closest friends.

Kerry's very popular novelty shop ("Muggle Mania!") was the talk of Hogsmeade. She and Neville had a cozy flat above the store, and were happily discussing the redecoration of their former study as the new baby's nursery.

Ron and Luna traveled frequently, as he was Keeper for the Chudley Canons and her job as Field Reporter for the Quibbler allowed her some flexibility. Percy and Penelope, their five year old twins, were unusually bright and had the added benefit of home schooling with both Luna and their Grandmother Molly.

Six year old Lily Potter had inherited her mother's thick red hair and her father's green eyes. With a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, she was almost as mischievous as she looked. At four years old, James Potter was the spitting image of his father. A bit more serious than Lily, James thought of himself as "the man of the house" and was often found at his father's side, doing chores or working in their cottage garden.

The baby of the family, two year old Sirius, had the face and sweet nature of an angel. Harry often said that Sirius looked like an infant version of Dumbledore, and indeed, his auburn hair and shockingly blue eyes were very much in the image of the late Headmaster.

After much hard work and study, Harry had realised his dream of becoming an Auror. The passing of the Dark Lord had certainly changed the nature of the job for the better, yet there were still very real threats to the safety of the wizarding world that the Aurors kept under control. Harry was frequently partnered on missions with Nymphadora Tonks, who had become quite a favourite with the Potter children. "Auntie Tonky" was especially famous for her very realistic impersonations of storybook characters.

Ginny's diplomatic skills had initially secured her a good job in the Ministry of Magic's Department of International Magical Co-operation. After the birth of James, however, she had resigned her post at the Ministry, settling in to raise their growing family and manage the small farm.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, Ginny brought out a magnificent three layered lemon cake while Harry filled his guests' glasses with sweet mead. Standing and raising his glass, Ron proposed a toast.

"To our birthday boys-Harry and Neville!" he said in a voice filled with laughter. "Your wives are happy-your households content. Let's see if you can keep it up for another twenty five years!"

"Hear, hear!" the other guests echoed enthusiastically. Hermione was a little surprised to see Ginny sipping gingerly from a glass of iced tea instead of mead. Ginny caught her glance, smiled, then leaned in closer to whisper in Hermione's ear.

"I'm not supposed to let on yet, but Harry and I have another one on the way!" Ginny was clearly thrilled, and Hermione gave her friend a quick peck on the cheek by way of congratulations. "Since Harry picked the names of our first three, he's agreed to let me name this one. If it's a girl, she'll be Molly. If it's a boy…" Ginny paused and flashed a wicked little smile at Harry, "he'll be called Severus." Ginny returned to the head of the table where she began slicing and handing round the cake.

Harry beckoned to Hermione from across the table. "No offense or anything, but please…" he whispered, glancing at Snape out of the corner of his eye, "_pray_ for a girl, okay?"

FIN! R&R?


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